GEORGE    GIBB 


The 
SECRET  WITNESS 


"Your  veil — quick,"  he  stammered  breathlessly. 

[PAGE  57] 


THE 
SECRET  WITNESS 

BY 

GEORGE  GIBBS 


AUTHOR  OF 
THE  YELLOW  DOVE,  THE  BOLTED  DOOR,  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 

GEORGE  BREHM 


CopTRian-r,  1917,  BT 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


,  BT  THH  Ctrans  PceiaaBBta  COMPAJTV 


Published  in  the  Unitad  3t»i««  of  America 


TO  MY  FRIEND 
MAJOR  R.  TAIT  McKENZIE,  R.A.M.C. 


2135782  f 


CONTENTS 


I. 

II. 

III. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

VII. 

VHI. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

XII. 

XIII. 

XIV. 

XV. 

XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

XIX. 

XX. 

XXI. 

XXII. 

XXIII. 

XXIV. 

XXV. 

XXVI. 

XXVH. 


41 
65 

92 
105 


JUNE  12,  1914      ....     .     *  -  .  -. 

iff      .V 

COURT  SECRETS  .     .     .     .     .     .  -^  . 

THE  HABSBURG  HAVEN       .     *  r-.-"-V-« 
SECRET  INFORMATION     .     .     .  4  .  £ . 

Two  INTRUDERS ^  •  •  • 

HERR  WINDT ''•';• 

THE  GREEN  LIMOUSINE      .     .  '  .  *.  . 
AN  ESCAPE  AND  A  CAPTURE      .     . 

CAPTAIN  GORITZ _, . 

DIAMOND  CUTS  DIAMOND 117 

THE  MAN  IN  BLACK     .     .     .     .     .     .     133 

FLIGHT .     150 

TRAGEDY .     162 

THE  HARIM ;   .     .     173 

THE  LIGHTED  WINDOWS      .     .     .     .     .     189 

THE  BEG  OF  RATAJ  .     .     .     ...  .f  .  '..     203 

THE  MAN  IN  ARMOR      .     .     ....     221 

NUMBER  28 235 

DISGUISE ^  .     .     255 

RENWICK  QUESTIONS      .     .     .     .  :  .     .     269 


AN  IMPERSONATION  .  .  .  .  *  .  • 
THE  NEEDLE  IN  THE  HAYSTACK  ."* 
SCHLOSS  SZOLNOK  .  .  '  *  :' 

*V         s    ••& 

PRISONER  AND  CAPTIVE       .     .  '  *  ? 
THE  RIFT  IN  THE  ROCK 
THE  DEATH  GRIP 
BESIEGED  . 


' 


284 
294 
310 
324 
344 
361 
38$ 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 


CHAPTER  I 

JUNE  12,  1914 

THE  Countess  Marishka  was  fleet  of  foot.  She 
was  straight  and  slender  and  she  set  a  pace  for 
Renwick  along  the  tortuous  paths  in  the  rose 
gardens  of  the  Archduke  which  soon  had  her  pursuer 
gasping.  She  ran  like  a  boy,  her  dark  hair  falling 
about  her  ears,  her  draperies  like  Nike's  in  the  wind, 
her  cheeks  and  eyes  glowing,  a  pretty  quarry  indeed  and 
well  worthy  of  so  arduous  a  pursuit.  For  Renwick  was 
not  to  be  denied  and  as  the  girl  turned  into  the  path 
which  led  to  the  thatched  arbor,  he  saw  that  she  was 
breathing  hard  and  the  half-timorous  laugh  she  threw 
over  her  shoulder  at  him  only  spurred  him  on  to  new 
endeavor.  He  reached  the  hedge  as  she  disappeared, 
but  his  instinct  was  unerring  and  he  leaped  through 
the  swaying  branches  just  in  time  to  see  the  hem  of 
her  skirt  in  the  foliage  on  the  other  side  and  plunging 
through  caught  her  in  his  arms  just  as  she  sank,  laugh- 
ing breathlessly,  to  the  spangled  shadows  of  the  turf 
beyond. 

"Marishka,"  he  cried  joyously,  "did  you  mean  it?" 

But  she  wouldn't  reply. 

1 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 


"You  said  that  if  I  caught  you " 

"The  race — isn't  always — to  the  swift — "  she  pro- 
tested falteringlj  in  her  pretty  broken.  English. 

"Your  promise " 

"I  made  no  promise." 

"You'll  make  it  now,  the  one  I've  waited  for — for 
weeks — Marishka.  Lift  up  your  head.'* 

"No,  no,"  she  stammered. 

"Then  I " 

Renwick  caught  her  in  his  arms  again  and  turned 
her  chin  upward.  Her  eyes  were  closed,  but  as  their 
lips  met  her  figure  relaxed  in  his  arms  and  her  head 
sank  upon  his  shoulder. 

"You  run  rerj  fast,  Herr  Renwick,"  she  whispered. 

"You'll  marrj  me,  Marishka?" 

"Who  shall  say?"  she  evaded. 

"Your  own  lips.     You've  given  them  to  me " 

"No,  no.    You  hare  taken  them " 

"It  is  all  the  same.  They  are  mine."  And  Renwick 
took  them  again. 

"Oh,"  she  gasped,  "you  are  so  persistent — you  Eng- 
lish. You  always  wish  to  have  your  own  way." 

He  laughed  happily. 

"Would  you  have  me  otherwise?  My  way  and  your 
waj',  Marishka,  they  go  together.  You  wish  it  so, 
do  you  not?" 

She  was  silent  a  while,  the  wild  spirit  in  her  slowly 
submissive,  and  at  last  a  smile  moved  her  lips,  her 
dark  eyes  were  upturned  to  his  and  she  murmured  a 
little  proudly: 

"It  is  a  saying  among  the  women  of  the  House  of 
Strahni  that  where  the  lipa  are  given  the  heart  must 
follow." 

* 


JUNE  IIS,  1914 


"Your  heart,  Marishka !  Mine,  for  many  weeks,  I 
know  it.  It  is  the  lips  which  have  followed." 

"What  matters  it  now,  beloved,"  she  sighed,  "since 
you  have  them  both?" 

Renwick  smiled. 

"Nothing1.  I  only  wondered  why  you've  kept  me 
dangling  so  long." 

She  was  silent  a  moment. 

"I — I  have  been  afraid." 

"Of  what?" 

"I  do  not  know.  It  is  the  Tzigane  in  my  blood  which 
reads  into  the  future " 

She  paused  and  he  laughed  gayly. 

"Because  I  am  a  foreigner " 

"I  have  not  always  loved  the  English.  I  have 
thought  them  cold,  different  from  my  people." 

He  kissed  her  again. 

"And  I  could  let  you  believe  me  that!" 

She  laughed.  "Oh,  no.  .  .  .  But  you  have  shown 
me  enough."  And,  pushing  him  gently  away,  "I  am 
convinced,  mon  ami.  .  .  ." 

"As  if  you  couldn't  have  read  it  in  my  eyes " 

"Alasf     One  reads — and  one  runs " 

"You  couldn't  escape  me.    It  was  written." 

"Yes,"    she    said    dreamily,    "I    believe    that    now." 

And    then,    "But    if    anything    should    come    between 
us »> 

"What,  Marishka?"  he  smiled. 

"I  don't  know.  I  have  always  thought  that  love 
would  not  come  to  me  without  bitterness." 

"What  bitterness,  liebchen?" 

She  settled  softly  closer  to  him  and  shrugged  lightly. 
"How  should  I  know?" 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

Pie  smiled  at  her  proudly  and  caught  her  brown 
hand  to  his  lips. 

"You  are  djed  in  the  illusions  of  your  race, — mys- 
tery— fatalism.  They  become  you  well.  But  here 
among  the  roses  of  Konopisht  there  is  no  room  in  my 
heart  or  yours  for  anything  but  happiness.  See  how 
they  nod  to  each  other  in  the  sunlight,  Marishka.  Like 
us,  they  love  and  are  loved.  June  comes  to  Bohemia 
but  once  a  year — or  to  us.  Let  us  bloom  in  the  sun- 
light like  them — happy — happy — 

"Blood  red,  the  roses,"  she  said  pensively.  "The 
white  ones  please  me  better.  But  they  are  so  few.  The 
Archduke  likes  the  red  ones  best.  What  is  the  verse? 

"I  sometimes  think  that  never  blows  so  red 
The  Rose  as  where  some  buried  Caesar  bled." 

"What  matter  Cassar  or  Kaiser  to  us,  Marishka? 
Our  own  kingdom " 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  sighed.  "And  I  am  happy  in  it.  You 
know  it,  nicht  walir?" 

Silence,  except  for  the  drowsy  hum  of  the  bees  and 
the  songs  of  the  birds.  No  fatalism  is  long  proof 
against  the  call  of  love  and  June.  Marishka  was  con- 
tent that  her  flight  had  ended  in  capture  and  sat  dream- 
ily gazing  at  the  white  clouds  floating  overhead  while 
she  listened  to  the  voice  at  her  ear,  replying  to  it  in 
monosyllables,  the  language  of  acquiescence  and  con- 
tent. The  moments  passed.  Konopisht  was  no  longer 
a  garden.  Enchanted  their  bower  and  even  the  red 
roses  forgotten. 

Suddenly  the  girl  started  upright  to  her  knees,  and 
peered  wide-eyed  through  an  opening  in  the  foliage. 

4 


JUNE  IS,  1914 


"What  is  it,  Marishka?" 

She  put  a  finger  to  her  lips  in  token  of  silence,  and 
Renwick  followed  her  gaze  down  the  graveled  path 
which  led  toward  the  arbor.  As  under-secretary  of  the 
British  Embassy  in  Vienna,  he  had  been  trained  to 
guard  his  emotions  against  surprises,  but  the  sight 
of  the  three  figures  which  were  approaching  them  down 
the  path  left  him  bereft  for  the  moment  of  all  initia- 
tive. In  the  center  walked  the  Archduke,  pulling  de- 
liberately at  his  heavy  dark  mustaches  while  he  lis- 
tened to  the  figure  upon  his  right,  a  nfan  of  medium 
stature,  who  wore  a  hunting  suit  and  a  jager  hat  with 
a  feather  in  it.  He  carried  his  left  hand,  concealing  a 
defect  of  his  arm,  in  the  pocket  of  his  shooting  jacket, 
while  with  his  free  right  hand  he  swung  an  ebony  cane. 
His  mustaches  were  turned  straight  upward  from  the 
corners  of  his  mouth  and  the  aggressive  chin  shot  out- 
ward as  he  glanced  right  and  left,  talking  meanwhile 
with  his  companions.  The  third  figure  was  very  tall, 
topping  even  the  Archduke,  who  was  by  no  means  small 
of  stature,  by  at  least  six  inches ;  his  hair,  or  as  much 
of  it  as  could  be  seen  beneath  the  soft  hat,  was  gray, 
and  a  long  beard,  almost  white  in  the  patches  at  either 
side  of  the  chin,  descended  in  two  long  points  half  of 
the  way  to  his  waist. 

Renwick  recognized  the  visitors  at  once,  and  turned 
toward  his  startled  companion,  his  own  mind  as  to  the 
propriety  of  his  situation  at  onqe  made  up. 

"Marishka,"  he  whispered,  "we  must  go." 

"It  is  too  late,"  she  murmured.    **They  would  see  us." 

"And  what  does  that  matter?" 

**I  forgot,"  she  breathed  helplessly.  "I  was  told  I 
was  not  to  come  today  into  the  rose  garden.  I  won- 

5 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

dered  why.  Sh !  Sit  still.  Crouch  lower.  Perhaps 

they  will  pass  on  and  then " 

Renwick  obeyed  somewhat  dubiously  and  sank, 
scarcely  daring  to  breathe,  beneath  the  thick  foliage 
beside  the  arbor  which  concealed  his  companion.  She 
seized  his  hand  and  he  felt  her  fingers  trembling  in  his 
own,  but  he  pressed  them  gently — aware  that  the 
tremors  of  the  girl's  fingers  as  the  footsteps  approached 
the  arbor  were  being  unpleasantly  communicated  to 
his  own.  The  breach  of  hospitality  to  the  household 
of  the  Archduke,  upon  whose  land  he  was,  was  as  noth- 
ing beside  the  breach  of  etiquette  to  the  Empire  by  his 
Chief.  Renwick's  nerves  were  good  but  he  trembled 
with  Marishka.  The  friendship  of  nations  depended 
upon  the  security  of  his  concealment — more  than  that 
— and  less  than  that — his  own  fate  and  the  girl's.  And 
so  Renwick  crouched  beside  her  and  silently  prayed  in 
English,  a  language  he  thought  more  fitted  to  the  des- 
perate nature  of  his  desires,  that  the  three  figures  would 
pass  on  to  another  part  of  the  garden,  that  they,  the 
luckless  lovers,  might  flee  to  the  abandoned  tennis  court 
in  innocence  and  peace. 

But  Renwick's  prayers  were  not  to  be  answered.  Had 
he  known  at  the  moment  how  deeply  the  two  of  them 
were  to  be  enmeshed  in  the  skein  of  Europe's  destiny  he 
,  would  have  risen  and  faced  the  anger  of  his  host,  or, 
risking  detection,  incontinently  fled.  But  Marishka's 
hand  clasped  his  own,  and  lucklessly,  he  waited. 

The  three  men  reached  the  gate  of  the  arbor,  the 
smaller  one  entering  first,  the  giant  with  the  gray  beard, 
at  a  gesture  from  their  host,  following,  and  they  all 
sat  in  chairs  around  the  small  iron  table.  Renwick  was 
paralyzed  with  fear  and  Marishka's  chill  fingers  seemed 

G 


JUNE  IS,  1914 


frozen  to  his.  There  had  been  rumors  in  the  chan- 
cellories of  Europe  of  this  visit  to  Konopisht  to  see  the 
most  wonderful  rose  garden  in  Bohemia  in  mid-June, 
but  Renwick  knew,  as  did  every  other  diplomat  in  Vien- 
na, that  the  visit  to  the  roses  of  Konopisht  was  a  mere 
subterfuge.  If  there  had  been  any  doubt  in  the  Eng- 
lishman's mind  as  to  the  real  nature  of  the  visit,  the 
grave  expressions  upon  the  faces  of  the  men  in  the  ar- 
bor would  speedily  have  set  him  right.  The  Archduke 
opened  a  cigarette  case  and  offered  it  to  his  compan- 
ions who  helped  themselves  with  some  deliberation. 

"A  wonderful  rose  garden,  truly,  my  friend,"  said 
the  man  in  the  jager  hat  with  a  smile  which  broke  the 
grave  lines  of  his  face  into  pleasant  wrinkles.  "I  will 
give  your  gardener  twice  what  you  offer  him  to  come 
to  me." 

The  Archduke  showed  his  white  teeth  in  a  smile.. 
"Majestat  has  but  to  request " 

"A  jest,  my  friend.  It  would  be  unmannerly.  It  i«f 
Her  Highness  that  I  would  also  rob,  for  roses,  after 
all,  are  more  a  woman's  pleasure  than  a  man's." 

"The  Duchess  spends  many  hours  here " 

"The  Arch  Duchess,"  corrected  the  other  vehemently. 

The  Archduke  shrugged.  "She  will  always  hold  that 
rank  in  my  heart,"  he  said  quietly. 

"And  with  me  and  my  House,"  said  the  other 
quickly. 

"It  is  a  pity  that  my  own  family  should  not  be  of 
the  same  mind." 

"It  matters  nothing,"  said  the  other.  "Nothing. 
You  shall  see." 

The  Archduke  examined  the  ash  of  his  cigarette,  but 
said  nothing. 

7 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"You  must  realize,  my  great  and  good  friend,"  con- 
tinued the  man  in  the  hunting  suit,  "that  I  did  not 
come  to  Konopisht  only  to  see  your  roses." 

The  Archduke  nodded  attentively. 

"The  fortunes  of  your  family  are  linked  to  mine  by 
ties  deeper  than  those  of  blood, — a  community  of  in- 
terest and  of  fortune  which  involves  the  welfare,  hap- 
piness and  progress  of  many  millions  of  people.  The 
history  of  civilization  in  Europe  has  reached  a  new 
page,  one  which  must  be  written  by  those  who  have  in 
keeping  the  Divine  destiny  of  the  Germanic  race.  It 
is  not  a  time  to  falter  before  the  graveness  of  our  re- 
sponsibility and  the  magnitude  of  our  undertakings.  I 
spoke  of  these  things  at  Eckartsau.  I  think  you  un- 
derstand." 

The  Archduke  nodded  gravely. 

"I  will  not  shirk  any  responsibility.  I  hesitated  once. 
That  hour  has  passed.  Sophie — Maximilian — Er- 
nest  " 

**They  must  have  their  heritage." 

The  man  in  the  jager  hat  got  up  and  paced  impa- 
tiently the  length  of  the  arbor,  at  one  moment  within 
three  yards  of  the  terrified  lovers  in  the  foliage. 

"Are  we  alone,  your  Highness?"  he  asked  of  the 
Archduke. 

"I  gave  orders  that  no  one  should  enter  the  rose  gar- 
den at  any  time  this  afternoon,"  replied  his  host. 

"It  is  well." '  He  sent  a  quick  glance  toward  the 
tall  man  who  had  risen.  "You  understand,  Admiral, 
nicht  wahr?" 

A  guttural  sound  came  from  the  old  man's  throat. 

"The  destinies  of  Europe,  meine  Herren,"  he  went 
on. 

8 


JUNE  12,  1914 


"Majestat  may  speak  on,"  said  the  Archduke  coolly, 
"without  fear  of  eavesdroppers." 

Renwick,  crouched  beneath  the  foliage,  was  incapable 
of  motion.  All  his  will  power  was  used  in  the  effort  to 
control  his  breathing,  and  reduce  his  body  to  absolute 
inertness.  But  as  the  moments  passed,  and  the  men  in 
the  arbor  gave  no  sign  of  suspicion  he  gained  confi- 
dence, all  his  professional  instincts  aroused  at  the  im- 
port of  this  secrecy  and  the  magnificence  of  the  impend- 
ing revelations.  He  was  England,  waiting,  alert,  on 
guard,  for  the  safety  and  peace  of  Europe.  He  did 
not  dare  to  look  at  Marishka,  for  fear  of  the  slightest 
motion  or  sound  which  might  betray  them.  Only  their 
hands  clasped,  though  by  this  time  neither  of  them  was 
conscious  of  the  contact. 

"At  Eckartsau,  my  brother,"  went  on  the  smaller 
man,  "you  and  I  came  to  an  understanding.  Maximil- 
ian and  Ernest  are  growing  toward  manhood.  And 
what  is  that  manhood  to  be?  Habsburg  blood  flows 
in  their  veins  as  it  flows  in  you,  the  Heir  Presumptive, 
but  the  Family  Law  debars  them.  Not  even  the  Este 
estates  can  pass  to  your  children.  They  will  become 
pensioners  upon  the  bounty  of  those  who  hate  their 
mother." 

"Impossible!"  whispered  the  Archduke  tensely.  "It 
must  not  be.  I  will  find  a  way " 

"Listen,  Franz,  my  brother.  A  magnificent  horizon 
spreads  before  you.  Look  at  it.  Part  of  the  Duchj 
of  Posen,  the  ancient  Kingdom  of  Poland  with  Lithua- 
nia and  the  Ukraine,  the  Poland  of  the  Jagellons, 
stretching  from  the  Baltic  to  the  Black  Sea.  Yours.  And 
after  you,  Maximilian's.  For  Ernest,  Bohemia,  Hun- 
gary, the  Southern  Slav  lands  of  Austria,  Serbia,  the 

9 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

Slav  coast  of  the  Eastern  Adriatic  and  Saloniki ; — two 
Empires  in  one.  And  the  states  of  those  who  have  de- 
spised Sophie  Chotek "  he  paused  expressively  and 

snapped  his  jaws,  "the  Austrian  Erbliinder  will  come 
into  the  Confederated  German  Empire."  He  paused 
again  and  then  went  on  more  quietly,  "Between  us  two 
a  close  and  perpetual  military  and  economic  alliance,  to 
be  the  arbiters  of  Europe  under  the  Divine  will,  domi- 
nating the  West  and  commanding  the  road  to  the 
East."  He  paused  and  took  a  fresh  cigarette  from  the 
box  on  the  table. 

"It  is  what  I  have  dreamed,"  murmured  the  deep 
voice  of  the  Archduke.  "And  yet  it  is  no  dream,  but 
reality.  Fate  plays  into  my  hands.  At  no  time 
have  we  been  in  a  better  position." 

It  was  the  turn  of  the  Archduke  to  walk  the  floor  of 
the  arbor  with  long  strides,  his  hands  behind  him,  his 
gaze  bent  before  him. 

"Yes,  civilization,  progress — all  material  things.  But 
the  Church — you  forget,  Majestat,  that  your  people 
and  mine  are  of  different  faiths.  Some  assurance  I 
must  have  that  there  will  be  no  question " 

"Willingly,"  said  the  other,  rising.  "Do  not  my 
people  serve  God  as  they  choose?  For  you,  if  you  like, 
the  Holy  Roman  Empire  reconstituted  with  you  as  its 
titular  head,  the  sovereignty  of  central  Europe  intact — / 
all  the  half  formulated  experiments  of  the  West,  at  the 
point  of  the  sword.  This  is  your  mission — and  mine !" 

The  two  men  faced  each  other,  eye  to  eye,  but  the 
smaller  dominated. 

"A  pact,  my  brother,"  said  the  man  in  the  hunting- 
suit,  extending  his  hand. 

The  Archduke  hesitated  but  a  moment  longer,  and 

10 


JUNE  12,  1914 


then  thrust  forward.  The  hands  clasped,  while  beside 
the  two,  the  tall  man  stood  like  a  Viking,  his  great  head 
bent  forward,  his  forked  beard  wagging  over  the  table. 

"A  pact,"  repeated  the  Archduke,  "which  only  Death 
may  disrupt." 

They  stood  thus  in  a  long  moment  of  tension.  It  was 
he  they  called  Majestdt  who  first  relaxed. 

"Death?."  he  smiled.  "Who  knows?  God  defends 
the  Empire.  It  lives  on  in  my  sons  and  yours." 

"Amen !"  said  the  Archduke  solemnly. 

"For  the  present,"  continued  the  other  quietly,  "si- 
lence! I  shall  advise  you.  You  can  rely  upon  Von 
Hoetzendorf?" 

"Utterly.  In  two  weeks  I  shall  attend  the  grand 
maneuvers  at  Savajevo." 

"Oh,  yes,  of  course.  You  shall  hear  from  me."  He 
took  a  few  steps  toward  the  door  of  the  arbor.  "It  does 
not  do  to  stay  here  too  long.  We  must  join  the  others. 
Berchtold,  you  said,  is  coming?" 

The  Archduke  nodded  with  a  frown,  and  followed 
with  the  Admiral  into  the  garden.  The  sun  had  de- 
clined and  the  warm  glow  of  late  afternoon  fell  upon 
the  roses,  dyeing  them  with  a  deeper  red.  But  along 
the  crimson  alleys  the  three  men  walked  calmly,  the 
smaller  one  still  gesturing  with  his  ebony  cane.  Pres- 
ently the  sound  of  their  footsteps  upon  the  gravel  di- 
minished and  in  a  moment  they  disappeared  beyond  the 
hedge  by  the  greenhouses. 

Renwick  in  his  place  of  concealment  trembled  again. 
The  reaction  had  come.  He  drew  a  long  breath,  moved 
his  stiffened  limbs  and  glanced  at  his  companion.  Her 
face  was  like  wax,  pale  as  death  and  as  colorless.  Her 
fingers  in  his  were  ice-cold.  Her  eyes,  dark  with  be- 
ll 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

wilderment,  sought  his  blankly  like  those  of  a  somnam- 
bulist. Renwick  rose  stiffly  to  his  knees  and  peered 
through  the  bushes. 

"They  have  gone,"  he  muttered. 

"The  Archduke!"  she  gasped.     "You  heard?" 

He  nodded. 

"Have  we  dreamed?     I  cannot  believe " 

Renwick  was  thinking  quickly.  Marishka — their  po- 
sition— his  duty — a  way  of  escape — one  thought  crowd- 
ed another  in  his  mind.  He  glanced  about  through  the 
foliage  behind  them  and  then  rose  to  his  feet. 

"I  must  get  back  to  Vienna,  at  once,"  he  said 
hoarsely. 

Marishka  stood  beside  him,  clinging  to  his  arm. 

"And  I — I  know  not  what  to  do.  I  could  not  look 
Her  Highness  in  the  face.  But  I  too  must  go  to  Vien- 
na. I  am  not  versed  in  politics,  but  the  secret  that  we 
share  is  terrible.  It  oppresses  me.  Austria — my  coun- 
try !" 

She  hid  her  face  in  her  hands  and  stood  silent  a  mo- 
ment, in  the  throes  of  a  struggle,  still  trembling  vio- 
lently. At  the  touch  of  Renwick's  fingers  upon  her 
arm,  she  straightened,  lowered  her  hands,  her  face  now 
quite  composed. 

"I  too  must  leave  here  at  once,"  she  said  quietly. 
"I  have  an  allegiance  stronger  than  my  duty  to  Sophie 
Chotek.  I  am  going '  ^ 

"Where?"  he  asked. 

"To  Schonbrunn."     . 

"But  Marishka,  have  you  thought ?" 

"I  pray  that  you  will  waste  no  words.  As  you  love 
me,  Hugh,  you  will  do  what  I  ask  and  be  silent." 

"What  can  I  do?" 

12 


JUNE  12,  1914 


"Go  with  me  to  Vienna  tonight." 

"That  would  be  most  imprudent.  Your  reputa- 
tion  " 

"I  care  nothing.    Will  you  accompany  me?" 

Renwick  shrugged.     "Of  course." 

"Then  do  as  I  bid  you.  I  will  show  you  a  way  out 
to  a  small  gate  from  the  garden  by  which  you  can  reach 
the  public  road.  Go  to  your  Inn.  Make  arrangements 
for  an  automobile.  I  will  join  you  tonight."  She 
peered  in  all  directions  through  the  foliage  and  then 
led  the  way  through  the  bushes  in  a  direction  opposite 
to  that  by  which  they  had  come.  Renwick  followed 
silently,  his  mind  turbulent.  What  was  his  duty?  And 
where  did  it  conflict  with  Marishka's  mad  plan  ?  What 
would  his  Ambassador  have  wished  him  to  do?  And  in 
what  could  he  serve  England  best?  He  must  have  time 
to  think.  For  the  present  at  least  Marishka  should 
have  her  way.  Indeed,  had  he  wished,  he  saw  no  means 
of  dissuading  her.  He  would  go  with  her  to  Vienna, 
make  a  clean  breast  of  things  to  his  Chief,  before  Ma- 
rishka could  carry  out  her  plan.  After  that  the  mat- 
ter would  be  out  of  his  hands. 

The  girl  descended  some  steps  to  a  narrow  gate  in 
the  hedge.  Here  Renwick  paused  a  moment  to  clasp 
her  in  his  arms. 

"Beloved,"  she  whispered,  "not  now.  Go.  Follow 
the  path  to  the  wall.  You  must  climb  it.  Let  no  one 
see  you  descend.  Au  revoir.  God  be  with  you." 

And  she  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  H 

COURT  SECRETS 

HUGH  RENWICK  lay  flat  upon  the  coping  of 
the  wall  for  a  moment  peering  up  and  down 
the  road  until  sure  at  last  that  the  way  was 
clear,  when  he  let  himself  down  and  walked  rapidly  in 
the  direction  of  the  village.  The  events  of  the  last 
hour  were  of  a  nature  to  disturb  the  equanimity  of  an 
existence  less  well  ordered  than  his.  The  winning  of  the 
Countess  Marishka,  an  achievement  upon  which  he  had 
set  his  whole  soul  for  many  uncertain  weeks  in  which 
hope  and  fear  had  fought  a  daily  battle  in  his  heart — 
that  in  itself  had  been  enough  to  convince  him  that  the 
gods  looked  upon  him  with  favor — but  this  other  coup 
de  foudre!  Whatever  the  means  by  which  his  informa- 
tion had  been  obtained,  the  mere  possession  of  it  and 
the  revelation  of  it  to  his  Ambassador  was  a  diplomatic 
achievement  of  the  highest  importance.  There  had 
long  been  rumors  of  an  entente  between  Archduke  and 
Kaiser,  but  this!  He  rubbed  his  eyes  to  make  sure  that 
he  was  awake. 

Hugh  Renwick  was  merely  the  average  Englishman 
of  good  family  and  wealth,  who  because  of  his  educa- 
tion in  a  German  university  had  found  the  offer  of  the 
post  of  Vienna  singularly  attractive.  He  had  filled  his 
position  with  circumspection,  if  not  with  brilliancy,  and 
had  made  himself  sufficiently  popular  in  court  circles 

14 


COURT  SECRETS 


to  be  sure  that  if  not  a  triumphant  success  in  the 
drudgery  of  the  office,  he  was  at  least  not  altogether 
a  social  failure.  Good  looking,  wealthy,  talented 
though  he  was,  it  was  something  indeed  to  have  won 
Marishka  Strahni,  who,  apart  from  her  high  position  in 
Vienna  and  the  success  of  a  season,  was,  as  he  well 
knew,  the  finest  girl  in  all  Austria.  Even  yet  he  doubt- 
ed his  good  fortune.  He  had  come  to  Konopisht,  where 
the  girl  was  visiting  the  Duchess  of  Hohenberg,  who 
had  been  a  childhood  friend  of  her  mother's.  As  every- 
one in  Vienna  knew,  Sophie  Chotek  was  ineligible  for  the 
high  position  she  occupied  as  consort  of  the  Heir  Pre- 
sumptive. Though  a  member  of  an  ancient  Bohemian 
family,  that  of  Chotek  and  Wognin,  the  law  of  the 
Habsburg's  that  archdukes  may  marry  only  those  of 
equal  rank,  forbade  that  the  Duchess  of  Hohenberg 
and  her  children  should  share  the  position  of  husband 
and  father.  She  had  been  snubbed  upon  all  the  occa- 
sions of  her  appearance  at  court  functions,  and  had  at 
last  retired  to  the  Archduke's  estates  at  Konopisht, 
where  she  led  the  secluded  life  of  the  eberiburtige,  still 
chafing,  rumor  had  it,  and  more  than  ever  jealous  and 
ambitious  for  the  future  of  the  children. 

Upon  the  occasion  of  a  previous  visit  of  the  Countess 
Marishka  to  Konopisht,  Renwick  had  spent  a  week  end 
at  the  castle,  but  he  thanked  his  stars  that  he  was  now 
stopping  at  the  village  inn.  It  would  have  been  diffi- 
cult to  go  through  the  formality  of  leave-taking  with 
the  shadow  of  this  impending  tragedy  to  Europe  hang- 
ing over  him.  He  pitied  Marishka  from  the  bottom  of 
his  heart  for  he  had  seen  the  beginnings  of  the  struggle 
between  her  devotion  to  the  Duchess  and  her  duty  to 
her  sovereign.  But  he  knew  enough  of  her  quality  to  be 

15 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

sure  that  she  would  carry  out  her  plan  at  whatever  the 
cost  to  her  own  feelings. 

As  Renwick  approached  the  gates  which  led  into  the 
Castle  grounds,  he  had  an  actual  sense  of  the  conse- 
quence of  the  Archduke's  guests  in  the  appearance  of 
soldiery  and  police  which  were  to  be  seen  in  every  direc- 
tion, and  while  he  waited  in  the  village  road  two  auto- 
mobiles came  out  of  the  gate  and  dashed  past  him  in 
the  direction  of  the  railroad  station,  in  the  foremost 
of  which  he  recognized  Archduke  Franz  and  his  guests 
of  the  rose  garden. 

"The  roses  of  Konopisht,"  he  muttered,  thinking  of 
Marishka's  fatalism.  "Were  they  symbols,  those  inno- 
cent red  blossoms?"  And  then  with  an  inward  smile, 
"Marishka !  What  bitterness  could  the  roses  of  Kono- 
pisht  bring  between  Marishka  and  him?" 

A  sense  of  the  grave  importance  of  his  mission  came 
over  Renwick  with  a  rush.  He  looked  at  his  watch. 
Six  o'clock.  It  would  have  been  hazardous  to  use  the 
wire  to  reach  the  Embassy  even  had  he  possessed  a  code. 
He  knew  enough  of  the  activities  of  the  Austrian  secret 
service  to  be  sure  that  in  spite  of  his  entree  at  the  Cas- 
tle, his  presence  at  Konopisht  at  this  time  might  be 
marked.  He  sauntered  down  the  street  with  an  air  of 
composure  he  was  far  from  feeling.  There  was  nothing 
for  it  but  to  obey  Marishka's  injunctions  and  wait,  upon 
his  guard  against  surprises,  but  ready  to  go  to  any  ex- 
treme to  reach  Vienna  and  the  Embassy  with  a  sound 
skin.  He  found  the  owner  of  a  motor  car,  and  telling 
the  man  that  he  was  traveling  by  night,  he  paid  its 
owner  in  advance  and  engaged  it  to  be  at  a  certain 
place  by  nightfall,  promising  a  further  payment  if  the 
matter  were  kept  secret.  Then  he  went  to  the  inn,  took 

16 


supper,  and  lighting  his  pipe,  paced  the  cobbles  and 
waited. 

As  the  summer  dusk  fell  slowly  upon  the  streets  of 
the  little  village,  Renwick  found  himself  a  prey  to  re- 
newed apprehensions  as  to  Marishka.  Had  her  presence 
and  his  in  the  rose  garden  been  discovered  by  one  of 
the  Archduke's  retainers?  And  was  she  now  a  prisoner 
in  the  castle  where  a  few  hours  ago  she  had  been  so 
free  a  guest?  She  was  clever,  as  he  knew,  but  the  bur- 
den of  her  secret  had  marked  its  shadows  upon  her  face. 
What  excuse  would  she  offer  the  Duchess  for  her  sud- 
den departure?  The  girl  was  dear  to  him,  dearer  than 
anything  in  the  world  but  England,  and  the  thought  of 
making  a  choice  between  her  safety  and  the  perform- 
ance of  his  duty  was  bitterly  painful  to  him.  Eight 
o'clock  passed — nine.  He  had  gone  inside  the  house 
again,  for  the  actions  of  any  stranger  in  Konopisht 
were  sure  to  be  conspicuous  and  he  felt  himself  already 
an  object  of  notice.  But  at  last  unable  to  bear  the  sus- 
pense inactive,  he  went  out,  crossed  the  road  and  stood, 
his  teeth  clenched  upon  his  extinguished  pipe,  his  gaze 
upon  the  road  which  led  to  the  gates  of  the  Park. 

There  she  came  to  him,  out  of  the  darkness.  At  the 
touch  of  her  fingers  he  started,  for  he  had  not  been  ex- 
pecting her  from  this  direction,  but  the  sound  of  her 
voice  fell  like  the  balm  of  her  presence  upon  his  spirit. 

"Thank  God,"  he  gasped.  "Marishka,  I  was 
afraid " 

"I  came  as  soon  as  I  could,"  she  whispered  rapidly 
in  English.  "It  was  difficult.  I  could  make  no  excuses 
for  leaving.  I  pleaded  fatigue  and  went  to  my  room. 
And  when  the  opportunity  offered,  stole  out  through 
the  garden." 

17 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"And  your  absence  will  not  be  discovered ?" 

"Not  until  tomorrow — when,  please  the  Holy  Vir- 
gin, I  shall  be  at  Schonbrunn." 

He  took  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her  warmly,  but 
he  felt  the  restraint  in  her  caress. 

"Hugh,  beloved,  let  us  wait  upon  duty  for  our  own 
happiness.  I  cannot  rest  until  I  have  told  our  dreadful 
secret.  You  have  a  motor  car?" 

"Come,"  he  said.  And  taking  her  small  valise  with 
his  own,  he  led  the  way  to  the  spot  where  the  machine 
was  awaiting  them.  Marishka  gave  directions  and  in 
a  few  moments  they  were  off.  The  danger  of  detection, 
once  beyond  the  village,  was  slight,  and  their  purpose 
to  reach  the  railroad  at  Budweis  and  take  a  late  train 
to  Vienna  was  not  difficult  of  accomplishment.  The 
machine  was  none  too  good,  but  the  road  for  the  main 
part  was  excellent.  Renwick's  arm  was  about  the  girl, 
and  they  sat  discussing  their  plans  for  the  immediate 
future. 

"You  have  no  fear  for  what  you  are  about  to  do?" 
he  asked. 

"What  should  I  fear?"  she  said  lightly.  "I  am  only 
doing  my  duty." 

"There  will  be  difficulties,  will  there  not?" 

"Perhaps.    But  I  shall  succeed.    Prince  Montenuovo, 
the    High   Chamberlain    of   the    Court   will   listen    to  ( \ 
me." 

"But  you  will  not  tell  him  all." 

"Not  unless  it  is  necessary.  You,  Hugh,  will  take 
me  to  him." 

Renwick  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"Marishka,"  he  said  at  last,  "we  share  a  terrible 

duty,  yours  to  Austria,  and  mine  to  England '* 

18 


COURT  SECRETS 


"But  mine — is  it  not  the  greater?"  she  pleaded.  "You 
must  not  speak,  Hugh,  until  I  have  given  you  permis- 
sion." 

Renwick  folded  his  arms  and  gazed  stolidly  into  the 
darkness. 

"I  must  tell  what  I  know  to  Sir  Herbert,"  he  said 
I  firmly.    "You  must  not  ask  me  to  be  silent." 

He  noticed  the  change  in  her  voice  as  she  replied, 
"Is  my  happiness  so  slight  a  thing  that  you  can  refuse 
the  first  request  I  make  of  you?" 

He  caught  her  hand  to  his  lips. 

"Marishka,  you  know " 

"My  first  request " 

"There  is  nothing  in  the  world  that  I  would  not  do 
for  you.  You  would  think  little  of  me  if  I  did  not  do 
my  duty." 

"And  of  your  duty  to  me ?    Is  that  nothing?" 

Renwick  smiled  into  the  darkness.  Had  he  been  told 
six  months  ago  that  he  would  be  bandying  the  interests 
of  England  against  the  plans  of  a  pretty  woman  he 
would  have  laughed  the  idea  to  scorn. 

"What  do  you  wish  me  to  do,  Marishka?"  he  asked 
gently. 

With  a  swift  impulse,  she  threw  her  arms  about  his 
neck,  whispering  in  his  ear. 

"O  Hugh,  I  cannot  bear  that  there  should  be  a  dif- 
ference between  us,  today,  the  first  of  our  fianfaUles. 
It  will  perhaps  make  no  great  difference  that  you  should 
tell  what  we  have  heard,  for  your  country,  thank  the 
Holy  Virgin,  is  at  friendship  with  mine.  If  you  would 
but  wait  until  I  give  you  permission." 

"And  if  something  happened  to  me  in  the  mean- 
while  ?" 

19 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"Nothing  can  happen.  No  one  at  Konopisht  can 
know.  I  am  sure  of  that — sure." 

Perhaps  the  moment  of  danger  that  had  threatened 
their  happiness  had  made  each  more  considerate,  and 
the  two  great  secrets  that  they  possessed,  their  own 
and  the  other  more  terrible  one  had  strengthened  the 
bond  between  them. 

"I  will  wait  until  you  have  been  to  Schonbrunn,"  he 
decided. 

"Until  I  give  you  permission,"  she  insisted. 

He  kissed  her.  She  believed  it  to  be  a  promise  and 
the  tight  pressure  of  her  hand  rewarded  him.  In  that 
moment  of  rapprochement,  the  destinies  of  nations 
seemed  a  matter  of  little  moment  to  them. 

"You  will  marry  me  soon,  Marishka?"  he  murmured. 

"Perhaps,"  she  whispered  gently. 

Morning  brought  the  pair  in  a  -fiacre  into  the  Schot- 
tenring,  Marishka  weary  but  resolute,  Renwick  some- 
what dubious  as  to  their  appearance  at  this  early  hour 
alone  in  the  streets  of  Vienna.  But  at  his  suggestion 
that  they  drive  first  to  the  house  of  Marishka's  aunt 
and  guardian,  Baroness  Racowitz,  where  some  excuse 
could  be  made  for  the  girl's  unexpected  visit,  Marishka 
only  shook  her  head  and  gave  the  town  address  of  Prince 
Montenuovo,  who,  as  she  knew,  was  still  in  residence, 
the  Emperor  not  being  expected  at  Ischl  until  the  mid- 
dle of  July.  Nor  would  she  permit  Renwick  to  accom- 
pany her  within  the  house,  and  so  he  sat  alone  in  the 
humble  fiacre  for  what  seemed  an  interminable  time,  un- 
til a  man  in  livery  came  down  the  steps  and  gave  him 
a  note  in  Marishka's  hand. 

"I  have  succeeded  in  getting  an  audience.  Go  to 
the  Embassy  and  await  word  from  me.  Silence." 

20 


COURT  SECRETS 


And  so  at  last  he  drove  away  to  his  hotel,  sure  at 
least  that  for  the  present  he  had  done  his  duty  to  Ma- 
rishka.  But  this  was  no  boy-and-girl  matter.  The  lives 
of  nations,  perhaps,  hung  upon  his  decision.  In  a  weak 
moment  he  had  promised  Marishka  an  impossible  thing. 
He  did  not  know  what  danger  hung  over  him.  If  any- 
thing happened  to  him  England  might  never  know  until 
it  was  too  late.  The  vision  of  Marishka's  pale  face 
haunted  him,  but  he  decided  to  take  no  further  chances, 
and  locking  himself  in  his  own  rooms,  he  wrote  a  long 
statement,  in  which  he  accurately  recounted  his  expe- 
rience in  the  garden  the  day  before.  This  letter  writ- 
ten, sealed,  addressed,  and  given  to  a  trusted  servant  to 
be  delivered  into  the  hands  of  the  Ambassador  at  a  given 
time,  Renwick  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief,  then  bathed, 
dressed,  and  waited. 

It  was  not  until  some  days  later  that  he  heard  in  de- 
tail of  Marishka's  visit  to  the  Emperor.  The  High 
Chamberlain,  aware  of  the  visit  of  the  Countess  Strahni 
to  Konopisht,  and  convinced  of  her  earnestness  and 
anxiety,  had  acted  immediately.  The  Emperor  for- 
tunately was  not  ailing  and  the  audience  was  obtained 
without  difficulty.  Franz  Joseph  at  eighty-four,  and 
burdened  with  more  sorrows  than  those  that  fall  to  the 
lot  of  the  average  man,  still  found  interest  in  the  com- 
plaints and  petitions  of  his  subjects  and  had  audience 
on  certain  days  at  Schonbrunn.  It  was  this  intimate 
touch  with  his  people,  kept  through  many  years,  which 
endeared  him  to  his  subjects,  and  stories  of  his  paternal 
kindness  were  thus  continually  sent  the  length  and 
breadth  of  the  nation. 

Marishka  was  shown  into  an  antechamber  in  the  Em- 
peror's private  suite  where  for  what  seemed  an  in- 

21 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

terminable  time  she  sat  and  waited.  At  length  her 
sponsor  appeared  and  conducted  her  along  a  short  cor- 
ridor past  several  rooms  to  a  white  door  which  the 
Prince  opened,  and  then  stood  aside  as  Marishka  en- 
tered. 

"The  Countess  Strahni,"  he  announced. 

Marishka,  a  little  bewildered  and  frightened,  ad- 
vanced uncertainly,  her  eyes  dazzled  by  the  brilliant 
sunlight  which  streamed  in  at  the  south.  As  she  hesi- 
tated, a  voice  near  the  furthest  window  spoke  reassur- 
ingly. 

"Come  in,  child,"  it  said.    "I  am  here." 

She  advanced  with  trembling  knees,  aware  of  an  old 
man  in  a  military  blouse  sitting  in  a  large  chair  beyond 
a  desk.  The  infirmities  of  age  and  suffering  had  bowed 
his  shoulders  and  to  Marishka  the  Emperor  seemed 
smaller  than  when  she  had  seen  him  last,  smaller  and 
very  much  older.  There  was  a  stillness  about  his  per- 
son, a  quality  of  resignation  and  quiescence  that  was 
almost  statuesque.  But  his  whiskers  and  mustache, 
carefully  groomed,  were  brushed  upward  and  outward 
from  the  rather  heavy  lip  and  chin,  and  had  a  military 
cut  which  comported  well  with  the  dignity  of  his  ap- 
pearance. His  eyes,  the  right  one  much  smaller  than 
the  left,  were  light  gray  in  color,  and  as  her  own  gaze 
caught  them,  very  grave  and  kindly,  like  his  voice, 
which  as  he  spoke  gave  her  every  encouragement  to  be 
at  her  ease. 

"You  will  pardon  the  infirmities  of  an  old  man  and 
forgive  me  for  not  rising,"  he  said  gently.  "Will  you 
be  seated,  here,  before  me,  where  I  may  look  at 
you?" 

There  was  a  pathetic  touch  of  his  old  gallantry  in 


COURT  SECRETS 


the  gesture  which  accompanied  the  words,  and  a  bright 
flash  of  his  eyes  as  Marishka  came  forward  into  th« 
light  and  stood  before  him.  Even  today  the  Emperor 
was  not  immune  from  the  charms  of  feminine  beauty. 
Marishka  did  as  she  was  bidden,  sitting  upon  the  edge 
of  her  chair  before  the  old  man,  gazing  at  him  again, 
without  words  to  begin. 

"His  Highness  has  told  me  that  you  have  something 
of  importance  to  communicate,"  said  the  Emperor  with 
a  smile.  "Your  grandfather  once  did  me  a  service.  If 
there  is  anything  that  I  may  do " 

The  quiet  voice  paused  and  she  was  conscious  of  the 
gaze  of  the  gray  eyes  upon  her  in  gentle  inquiry. 

"It  is  nothing  that  I  want,  Sire,"  she  murmured  halt- 
ingly. "It  is  something  of  the  utmost  importance  that 
has  occurred — at  Konopisht — which  I  thought  it  neces- 
sary that  you  should  know — something  of  the  gravest 
moment  to  the  State — to  Austria — and  to — to  Your 
Majesty." 

She  paused  breathless,  finding  speech  difficult. 

She  saw  his  eyebrows  upraised  slightly  and  then 
contracted,  while  his  gaze  upon  her  grew  concen- 
trated. 

"You  may  speak  freely,  child.  There  is  no  one  here 
who  hasn't  the  interests  of  my  country  at  heart." 

Marishka  glanced  around  swiftly,  her  pulses  throb- 
bing. Prince  Montenuovo  stood  beside  the  desk,  im- 
movable. 

"Your  Majesty,"  she  almost  whispered,  "my  infor- 
mation is  of  such  a  character " 

She  paused  again  and  felt  the  old  man's  gaze  upon 
her  in  deeper  interest  and  curiosity.  There  was  a  si- 
lence, but  if  he  had  had  a  momentary  doubt  of  her,  it 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

was  speedily  dispelled,  for  his  rather  weary  lips  parted 
in  a  smile,  as  he  turned  to  his  Chamberlain.  "If  Your 
Highness  will  be  pleased  to  await  my  call " 

Prince  Montenuovo  with  a  bow  withdrew. 

"Now,  child,"  said  the  Emperor,  bendir,  t  jslightlj 
forward  in  his  chair,  "will  you  not  tell  me  fretiy  wha  i 
has  bothered  you?" 

"Your  Majesty,"  said  Marishka,  plunging  breath- 
lessly into  her  subject,  "I  was  stopping  at  Konopisht 
at  the  castle  of  the  Archduke  Franz.  The  Duchess  of 
Hohenberg,  formerly  the  Countess  Chotek,  was  a  friend 
of  my  mother's,  and  for  many  years  our  families  have 
been  intimate." 

She  saw  the  slight  contraction  of  the  heavy  brows 
at  the  mention  of  Sophie  Chotek's  name,  but  she  went 
on  rapidly : 

"Sire,  when  you  know  how  long  our  families  have 
been  friendly,  how  kind  Her  Highness  has  been  to  me 
since  the  death  of  my  father  and  mother,  you  will  under- 
stand that  what  I  am  about  to  say — to  reveal — is  very 
painful  to  me.  I  could  not  speak,  Sire,  even  now,  unless 
the  welfare  of  Austria  and  of  Your  Majesty  were  not 
more  important  to  me  than  any  personal  considerations 
whatever." 

As  she  paused  painfully  again,  he  encouraged  her 
with  a  smile. 

"Go  on,  child,"  he  said. 

"I  was  at  the  tennis  court,  playing  with" — she  paused 
and  blushed  prettily — "with  a  friend.  The  game  fin- 
ished, we — we  went  into  the  garden  and  sat  upon  the 
lawn  in  the  shade  of  some  foliage  where  it  was  cool. 
I  did  not  know,  Sire,  nor  did  my  companion,  of  the 
presence  of  royalty  at  Konopisht,  and  did  not  remem- 

24 


COURT  SECRETS 


her  that  I  had  been  told  not  to  go  into  the  rose  garden 
until  it  was  too  late." 

"Too  late  ?"  he  asked  keenly. 

"We  were  interested,  talking,  and  not  until  the  sound 
of  foots4  ^  upon  the  graveled  walk  near  the  arbor,  did 
real'^e  how  grave  a  violation  of  the  hospitality  of  the 
Archduke  had  been  committed.  I  should  have  fled,  but, 
Sire,  I  could  not.  I  was  frightened.  And  so  we  stayed, 
hidden  in  the  foliage  by  the  arbor. 

"So !"  he  broke  in,  his  voice  speaking  the  word  with 
a  rising  inflection  of  intense  interest.  "It  is  well  that 
you  have  come.  I,  too,  know  something  of  the  visitors 
to  the  roses  of  Konopisht.  The  talk  was  not  all  of 
roses,  nicht  wahr?"  he  said  quietly,  with  a  little  bit- 
terness. 

"No,  Sire.  The  talk  was  not  all  of  roses,"  said  Ma- 
rishka. 

"Go  on,  then,"  he  continued.  "Spare  me  no  word  of 
what  you  heard  or  saw.  Nothing." 

And  Marishka,  composing  herself  with  an  effort, 
obeyed  the  command. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  HABSBURG  RAVEN 

THE  Emperor  heard  her  through  until  the  end, 
with  a  word  here,  a  sudden  question  there,  the 
gravity  of  the  girl's  disclosures  searing  more 
painfully  the  deeply  bitten  lines  at  eye  and  brow.  But 
he  did  not  flinch.  It  seemed  that  grief  and  pain  had 
already  done  their  worst  to  that  frail  body.  For  what- 
ever this  Habsburg's  failings,  fear  was  not  one  of  them. 
There  was  resolution  too  in  the  clenching  of  the  freck- 
led fist  upon  the  chair  arm  and  in  his  footsteps  as  he 
started  up  from  his  chair  and  walked  the  length  of  the 
room.  Bowed  though  his  shoulders  were  with  the  weight 
of  his  years,  he  was  still  a  figure  to  respect — a  person- 
ality. Marishka  watched  furtively,  waiting  for  him 
to  speak  again  as  he  strode  back  and  forth,  but  his 
brows  were  deeply  tangled  in  thought  and  his  shoulders 
were  more  bent  than  ever.  It  almost  seemed  that  he 
had  forgotten  her  presence. 

But  at  last  he  turned  toward  where  Marishka,  who 
'  had  risen  and  was  still  standing,  was  awaiting  his  pleas- 
ure.    He  came  straight  toward  her  and  extended  his 
fingers.     She  sank  to  her  knees  to  kiss  them,  but  he 
caught  her  by  the  hand  and  restrained  her. 

"You  have  done  well,  Countess  Strahni,"  he  said 
quietly.  "The  men  of  your  House  have  always  been 
brave  soldiers  and  good  citizens,  the  women  comely  and 

26 


loyal,  and  you,  my  child,  have  today  done  much  to  con- 
tinue the  honorable  traditions  of  your  family.  Aus- 
tria is,  for  you,  as  she  is  for  us  all,  the  Mother,  whom 
God  blesses  in  the  loyalty  of  her  children.  As  for 
those" — and  his  brows  clouded — "who  follow  the  de- 
vices of  their  own  hearts,  those  who  consider  neither 

the  family  law  nor  the  human  law "     He  paused, 

turned  and  sank  into  his  chair,  leaning  forward  again 
intently  as  the  new  thought  struck  him.  "Who  was 
your  companion,  Countess?" 

Marishka  flushed  a  little  but  said  quietly, 

"A  gentleman — an  Englishman " 

"So !"  again  the  rising  inflection,  followed  this  time 
by  a  slight  frown.  "An  Englishman!'* 

"A  friend  of  mine,  Sire,"  she  went  on  with  an  ac- 
cess of  dignity.  "Herr  Renwick,  an  attache  of  the 
British  Embassy " 

"Ah,  I  understand.     He  has  told?" 

"He  has  given  me  his  promise  to  reveal  nothing  until 
I  had  been  at  Schonbrunn  and  then  only  with  my  per- 
mission." 

"I  see,"  said  the  Emperor  with  a  frown.  "He  is  dis- 
creet?" 

"He  has  a  reputation  for  discretion,  Sire;  I  think 
he  may  be  trusted." 

"So,"  said  the  Emperor.     "Where  is  he  now?" 

"I  was  to  communicate  with  him  later." 

"Giving  him  permission  to  speak?" 

"Yes,  Sire." 

"It  is  a  pity,"  he  muttered,  as  though  meditating 
aloud.  "We  have  washed  enough  linen  in  public.  And 

this "    He  turned  abruptly  toward  her.    "You  have 

influence  with  this  Herr  Renwick  ?"  he  asked  keenly. 

27 


Marishka  was  painfully  embarrassed. 

"A  little,  Sire,  I  think." 

"You  have  served  Austria  well  today,  Countess 
Strahni.  You  can  serve  her  again  if  you  can  prevent 
this  Herr  Renwick  from  communicating  with  Sir 
Herbert  Southgate.  .  .  .  This  is  no  concern  of  Eng- 
land's." 

"I  will  do  what  I  can,  Sire.  But  the  matter,  it 
seemed,  was  of  grave  importance  to  Herr  Renwick.  He 
is  an  able  diplomat  and  most  intelligent." 

The  Emperor  regarded  her  almost  wistfully. 

"It  would  be  a  pity,"  he  said,  "if  Herr  Renwick 
should  be  discredited  at  the  Austrian  court 

"It  would  ruin  him,  Sire,"  said  Marishka  apprehen- 
sively ;  "if  he  tells  what  he  knows,  he  would  only  be  do- 
ing his  duty." 

"He  must  not  tell,  child,"  said  the  Emperor  gravely. 
"This  is  Austria's  secret  and  her  sorrow.  You  realize 
that,  do  you  not?" 

Marishka  bowed  her  head,  painfully. 

"Yes,  Sire." 

"You  will  promise  me  to  do  what  you  can?" 

She  looked  into  the  face  of  this  tired  old  man  and  a 
great  pity  for  him  swept  over  her. 

"I  will,  Sire.  I  will  ask  him  not  to  tell — demand 
it  of  him  even  if " 

She  paused  and  hid  her  face  in  her  hands,  unable 
to  say  more,  trying  to  hide  the  true  nature  of  the  sac- 
rifice he  was  asking  of  her. 

The  Emperor  understood  and  laid  a  kindly  hand 
upon  her  shoulder. 

"I  understand,  my  daughter.  I  pray  that  no  bit- 
terness may  come  between  you,  on  account  of  this.  Re- 

28 


THE  HAESEURG  RAVEN 

sponsibility  comes  to  you  early,  and  yet  you  cannot — 
must  not  shirk  it." 

"And  if  he  refuses ?"  she  pleaded. 

The  wrinkled  face  broke  into  a  smile,  the  gray  eyes 
were  bright  in  admiration. 

"I  am  sure,"  he  said  gallantly,  "that  Herr  Renwick 

could  refuse  you  nothing.  Were  I  younger "  He 

paused  with  a  sigh  and  smiled  again.  "I  am  not  sure 
even  now  that  I  am  not  a  trifle  jealous  of  this  discreet 
Englishman  of  yours."  And,  then,  aware  of  her  in- 
tense embarrassment,  "But  I  am  sure  that  you  will 
succeed." 

"I  shall  try,  Sire,"  she  murmured. 

And  still  he  seemed  loath  to  let  her  go,  walking 
toward  the  window  where  he  stood  in  the  sunlight  look- 
ing down  upon  the  lovely  gardens  beneath  him. 

"Perhaps  you  did  not  know,  Countess,  that  this  visit 
to  the  roses  of  Konopisht  has  caused  us  some  concern 
here  in  Vienna.  Berchtold,  who  went  yesterday  to  Ko- 
nopisht, will,  of  course,  discover  nothing.  The  Duchess 
of  Hohenberg  is  a  very  clever  woman.  You  know  her 
as  a  friend.  If  her  loyalty  to  her  friends  is  as  sincere 
as  her  ambitions  for  her  children,  then  you  can  surely 
have  no  cause  for  complaint.  Friendship  begets  friend- 
ship, but  those  who  love  Austria  may  not  serve  other 
gods — or  goddesses.  You  have  considered  these  things, 
and  however  difficult  the  task — have  chosen  ?" 

"It  has  been  bitter,  Sire.  I  can  never  go  back  to 
Konopisht." 

"I  am  sorry.  A  terrible  lesson  awaits  Sophie  Chotek. 
I  have  been  sorely  tried.  As  for  the  Archduke  Franz — 
a  reckoning — a  reckoning " 

She  saw  the  old  man  pause  and  start  a  pace  back 

29 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

from  the  window,  toward  which  he  stared,  wide-eyed  and 
immovable.  There,  upon  the  sill  of  the  window,  a  black 
bird  had  suddenly  appeared  and  hopped  awkwardly  to 
and  fro.  It  seemed  perfectly  at  home,  and  not  in 
the  least  frightened,  peering  into  the  room  with  its 
head  cocked  upon  one  side,  a  baleful  purplish  glitter  in 
its  eye. 

In  a  flash  Marishka  remembered  the  legend  which 
connects  every  misfortune  of  the  House  of  Habsburg 
with  the  appearance  of  this  bird  of  ill  omen:  the  flight 
of  ravens  at  Olmiitz,  the  raven  of , the  ill-fated  Maximil- 
ian at  Miramar,  the  raven  of  the  Archduchess  Maria 
Christina  on  the  eve  of  her  departure  for  her  future 
kingdom  of  Spain,  the  raven  which  came  to  the  Empress 
Elizabeth  on  the  afternoon  before  the  day  of  her  as- 
sassination,— all  these  incidents  so  closely  connected 
with  the  royal  figure  before  her,  passed  quickly  across 
her  mind  as  they  must  have  crossed  that  of  the  Em- 
peror. He  sank  into  his  chair  and  she  followed  his 
gaze  through  the  window  again.  The  somber  bird  had 
gone. 

Marishka  stood  in  silence,  not  daring  to  move,  aware 
of  the  terrible  undercurrent  of  thought  which  must  be 
racking  the  mind  of  her  sovereign,  this  man  of  sorrows, 
who  stood  upon  the  brink  of  the  grave  and  peace,  and 
yet  who  must  still  live  and  suffer  until  the  curse  of  the 
i  Countess  Karolyi  should  be  utterly  fulfilled. 

"Sire,"  she  muttered  after  a  moment,  "can  I ' 

He  stirred,  and  raised  a  pallid  face  to  hers.  It  was 
quite  composed  now,  but  marked  with  a  sadness  inex- 
pressible. 

"You  may  leave  me  now,  child.     I  am  a  little  tired. 

If  you  will  touch  the  bell  upon  the  table " 

30 


THE  HABSBURG  RAVEN 

He  paused  as  she  did  so,  and  a  servant  entered. 

"You  will  tell  Prince  Montenuovo  that  the  audience 
is  concluded,"  he  said. 

Marishka  fell  upon  her  knees  before  him,  and  touched 
his  fingers  to  her  lips. 

"May  God  bless  Your  Majesty,"  she  murmured  half- 
hysterically,  scarcely  knowing  what  she  said,  "and  give 
you  peace." 

She  was  aware  of  his  smile  as  she  arose. 

"Go,  Countess,"  he  said,  "you  have  done  well.  Keep 
this  secret  at  whatever  the  cost  to  yourself.  Those  who 
love  Austria  must  now  be  prepared  to  suffer  for  her. 
My  blessing,  child." 

She  obeyed  the  gesture  of  his  hand  and  followed  the 
High  Chamberlain  into  the  outer  corridor. 

Marishka's  first  thought,  upon  emerging  from  the 
palace,  was  that  she  must  find  Hugh  Renwick  at  once. 
A  new  idea  of  her  duty  had  been  born  in  her.  The  im- 
portance of  keeping  this  secret  of  theirs  from  England 
had  not  seemed  as  obvious  before  her  visit  to  Schon- 
brunn.  The  thought  of  her  lover's  possible  refusal  of 
her  request  now  seemed  appalling.  As  she  remembered 
his  sober  face  last  night  in  the  automobile,  when  this 
topic  had  caused  her  a  moment  of  unhappiness,  it 
seemed  that  his  refusal  to  accede  to  her  request  was 
more  than  possible.  She  had  liked  Hugh  Renwick  be- 
cause he  was  strong,  honest,  reliable,  serious, — quali- 
ties she  had  not  found  abundant  among  the  younger 
men  of  the  ancient  families  of  her  country.  She  loved 
him  now  because,  against  many  obstacles,  he  had  at 
last  carried  her  heart  by  storm.  But  she  realized  that 
the  very  qualities  she  had  most  admired  in  him  were  the 

31 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

very  ones  that  would  make  her  present  task  most  diffi- 
cult. 

He  had  given  his  word  not  to  reveal  the  secret  to 
his  Ambassador  without  her  permission.  That  was 
his  promise,  given,  she  knew,  grudgingly,  and  only  be- 
cause he  felt  for  the  moment  that  her  duty  took  prece- 
dence over  his  own.  But  was  it,  after  all,  merely  a  ques- 
tion of  precedence?  And  would  he,  now  that  he  had 
kept  his  promise  so  far,  insist  upon  doing  his  manifest 
duty  to  his  own  country?  Fears  assailed  her  that  she 
might  not  be  able  to  prevail.  His  love  for  her  was  un- 
tried. How  far  might  she  rely  upon  it  in  this  inevitable 
conflict  between  them  ?  And  if  he  refused  her ! 

The  motor  car  of  the  Prince  carried  her  to  the  apart- 
ments of  the  Baroness  Racowitz,  where,  after  a  rapidly 
thought-out  explanation  of  her  sudden  visit  which 
seemed  satisfactory,  she  wrote  a  note  to  Hugh  Renwick, 
asking  him  to  come  at  once  to  her,  addressing  it  to  his 
apartments  in  the  Strohgasse  and  telling  the  servant 
if  he  was  not  at  home  to  take  it  to  the  Embassy.  This 
note  dispatched,  her  mind  somewhat  more  at  ease,  she 
joined  the  Baroness  at  luncheon. 

Baroness  Racowitz,  her  father's  sister,  was  a  woman 
of  liberal  views.  Educated  in  England,  she  had  ab- 
sorbed some  of  the  democratic  spirit  of  the  West,  and  so 
looked  with  favor  upon  the  suit  of  the  young  English- 
man who  had  won  his  way  into  Marishka's  heart.  To- 
day, however,  in  spite  of  the  confession  which  trembled 
upon  her  lips,  Marishka  remained  silent.  And  the  mere 
fact  that  she  did  not  speak  added  conviction  of  the 
danger  which  threatened  her  happiness  and  Hugh  Ren- 
wick's. 

As  the  afternoon  waned  she  grew  apprehensive,  and 


THE  HABSBUEG  RAVEN 

it  was  not  until  evening  that  he  came.    His  appearance 
did  little  to  reassure  her. 

"Your  note  did  not  reach  me  until  a  few  moments 
ago,"  he  began  soberly.  "I  went  upon  a  mission  to 
the  ministry  which  has  kept  me  all  day." 

"I  have  been  worried,"  she  began  nervously.  "I  went 
to  Schonbrunn  this  morning " 

"I  know  it,"  he  broke  in  quickly.  "Otway,  of  the 
Embassy,  saw  you  leaving  in  the  Prince's  car." 

Something  in  his  tone,  in  the  avidity  with  which  he 
had  seized  upon  her  phrase,  warned  her  of  the  truth. 

"Oh,  Hugh,"  she  cried,  "you  have  already  told !" 

His  voice  sank  a  note  lower,  and  its  very  earnestness 
seemed  to  make  the  barrier  between  them  the  greater. 
"This  morning  when  I  left  you,  I  wrote  a  complete 
statement  of  what  happened  at  Konopisht,  and  gave  it 
to  a  servant  with  instructions  to  deliver  it  at  the  Em- 
bassy at  a  certain  hour.  When  I  tell  you  that  I  was 
bidden  to  the  Ministry  this  afternoon,  closely  ques- 
tioned and  detained  in  violation  of  all  precedent,  you 
will  understand  that  from  my  own  point  of  view,  I  acted 
wisely." 

"You  mean " 

"I  mean  that  larger  forces  than  yours  and  mine  have 
taken  control  of  the  situation." 

"Then  your  message  has  been  delivered?" 

"Yes." 

"Oh,  I  cannot  believe  it  of  you "  she  said,  staring 

at  him  in  anguish. 

He  smiled  gently. 

"I  have  only  done  my  duty " 

"Your  duty !"  she  said  bitterly.    "And  what  of  your 

duty  to  me?     You  promised " 

33 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"Merely,"  he  put  in  quickly,  "that  I  would  wait  un- 
til you  had  been  to  Schonbrunn." 

"No,  no,  you  promised,"  she  said,  with  rising  anger. 
"It  was  my  secret — not  yours.  I  have  never  given  you 
permission  to  reveal  it." 

"Nor  having  been  to  Schonbrunn  would  have  given, 
it  now,  Marishka,"  he  said  firmly. 

"And  knowing  this,  you  use  subterfuge,  an  unmanly 
recantation — break  your  promised  word ' 

"I  have  broken  no  promise,  Marishka,  listen ' 

"Nothing  that  you  can  say 

She  rose,  her  face  hidden  in  her  hands.  "Oh,  you 
have  done  me  a  damage — irreparable !  I  too  have  prom- 
ised  " 

"The  Emperor!" 

"My  sovereign — he  asked  this  secrecy  of  me  and  you 
— the  man  I " 

"Marishka,  I  love  you,"  he  pleaded,  trying  to  take 
her  hand.  "Anything  but  this  !  Can't  you  understand  ? 
I  would  have  betrayed  my  trust.  The  situation  you 
placed  me  in  was  impossible.  Great  mischief  is  brew- 
ing in  Europe.  Could  I  sit  idly  by  and  let  my  country 
be  in  ignorance  of  it?  God  knows  what  is  to  happen, 
but  whatever  comes  your  country  and  mine  can  have 
no  quarrel — any  more  than  you  and  I  can  have.  Eng- 
land  is  strong.  No  nation  in  Europe  can  endure  with- 
jout  her  friendship.  Can't  you  see?  I  have  done  Aus- 
'tria  no  wrong — a  service,  rather,  Marishka;  and 
you " 

"You  can  do  me  no  further  service,  Herr  Renwick," 
she  said  coldly,  rising. 

He  was  on  his  feet  too,  his  face  pale,  regarding  her 
steadily. 

34 


THE  HABSBURG  RAVEN 

"I  cannot  believe  that  you  are  willing  to  blame  me 
for  doing  my  duty.  Love  can  only  exist  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  respect,  Marishka.  Could  you  have  cared 
for  me  if  I  had  been  willing  to  seek  your  favor  at  the 
expense  of  my  own  honor?  Could  you?  Think." 

"Those  who  can  thrive  politically  upon  the  misfor- 
tunes of  my  country  are  my  country's  enemies — and 
mine,"  she  said  coldly. 

"I  have  done  your  country  no  harm — nor  you.  Lis- 
ten, Marishka,"  he  pleaded  tensely.  "Look  at  me.  I 
love  you,  dear,  with  all  my  heart  and  soul,  I  love  you. 
You  cannot  forget  what  happened  to  us  yesterday.  I 
will  not  give  you  up " 

"You  must — I  pray  that  you  will  leave  me,  Herr 
Renwick,"  and  she  moved  past  him  toward  a  door. 

Renwick  straightened.  Whatever  hopes  he  had  had 
in  his  heart  that  Marishka  might  forgive  him  for  act- 
ing without  her  consent,  her  action  left  no  doubt  as  to 
her  present  intentions.  The  bitterness  the  girl's  fatal- 
ism had  predicted  yesterday  had  fallen  upon  them 
quickly.  But  he  would  not  despair.  As  the  girl  was 
yet  to  learn,  Renwick  was  not  one  who  despaired  easily. 
But  his  years  of  service  had  given  him  discretion. 

"I  cannot  believe  that  you  are  quite  in  earnest,"  he 
said  quietly.  "I  will  call  upon  you  again  when  you  have 
had  time  to  weigh  my  action  impartially " 

"I  shall  not  be  at  home  to  you." 

"Nevertheless,"  he  said  coolly,  "I  shall  come." 

Her  shoulders  moved  disdainfully.  "It  should  be 
enough  that  I 

"Marishka,"  he  broke  in  again  and  came  toward  her, 
"at  least  give  me  a  chance  to  speak  to  you  again — 

tomorrow " 

35 


The  curtains  beside  her  parted  abruptly  as  she  fled, 
leaving  Renwick  staring1  helplessly  at  the  embroidered 
hangings. 

He  stood  awkwardly  for  a  moment,  like  a  figure  sud- 
denly frozen,  and  then  dropping  his  arms  to  his  sides 
turned  and  sought  his  hat  and  stick.  For  the  present 
at  least  there  seemed  nothing  else  to  do.  He  descended 
the  stairs,  a  deeply  puzzled  frown  upon  his  brows,  and 
went  out  into  the  darkness  of  the  street. 

Courts  and  camps,  they  say,  are  the  best  schools,  and 
Renwick  had  not  lived  his  thirty  years  in  vain.  He  had 
known  since  last  night  what  he  must  do  in  England's 
service,  and  he  had  also  known  what  havoc  that  service 
must  work  in  Marishka's  mind.  He  had  foreseen  the 
inquietude  of  the  Austrian  government  at  his  posses- 
sion of  this  state  secret,  and  had  known  that  his  rela- 
tions with  Marishka  must  be  put  in  jeopardy.  He 
knew  that  she  must  request  his  silence,  that  he  must  re- 
fuse her,  and  that  no  woman's  pride,  put  to  the  test, 
could  brook  such  a  refusal.  Like  Marishka,  he  had 
had  a  brief  hope  that  this  love  might  survive  the  ordeal 
put  upon  it,  but  he  had  not  been  long  in  discovering 
that  the  Emperor's  request  to  Marishka  had  made  his 
action  seem  unpardonable.  And  yet  he  had  known  as 
he  knew  now,  that  no  other  course  had  been  open  to 
him.  Since  Marishka's  early  visit  to  the  Palace,  an 
undercurrent  of  events  had  moved  swiftly.  The  fact 
that  he  had  received  a  note  from  Baron  Lichteveld  ask- 
ing him  to  call  at  the  Ministry,  the  interview  between 
them  full  of  allusions  on  the  Baron's  part  which  showed 
a  complete  knowledge  of  the  situation ;  a  veiled  re- 
quest, a  veiled  threat,  to  both  of  which  Renwick  had 
appeared  oblivious.  These,  and  an  uncomfortable  sense 

36 


THE  HABSBURG  RAVEN 

that  he  was  being  detained,  had  at  last  made  Renwick 
open  his  lips.  The  information  of  which  he  was  pos- 
sessed, he  had  told  the  Baron,  was  in  the  hands  of  those 
who  would  at  the  proper  time  place  it  before  the  Brit- 
ish Ambassador.  The  firmness  of  his  attitude  had 
brought  the  interview,  apparently  pleasant  and  quite 
unofficial,  to  a  sudden  ending,  and  Renwick  had  left 
the  Ministry,  aware  that  his  own  official  position  in 
Vienna  had  suddenly  become  precarious. 

His  statement  was  now  at  the  Embassy,  and  its  as- 
tounding contents  had  been  read  by  his  Chief.  He  made 
his  way  thither,  somewhat  dubious  as  to  the  thrill  of 
his  achievement,  aware  of  a  shadow  about  him,  the  ghost 
of  yesterday's  joy,  which  made  all  success  save  the  in- 
timate personal  one  that  he  most  craved,  flat,  stale,  and 
Unprofitable.  In  the  darkness  of  the  street  he  was 
aware,  too,  that  he  was  being  observed  and  followed, 
but  he  went  boldly  toward  his  destination,  sure  that 
as  a  member  of  the  staff  of  the  British  Embassy,  his 
person  at  least  partook  of  the  official  immunity  of  his 
Chief. 

But  there  were  other  forces  arrayed  against  him  with 
which  he  had  not  reckoned.  At  a  deserted  and  un- 
lighted  corner  he  found  his  progress  blocked  by  two  fig- 
ures who  attempted  to  engage  him  in  a  conversation. 
Now  thoroughly  awake  to  a  personal  danger  which  no 
official  immunity  could  minimize,  he  was  at  once  upon 
his  guard,  moving  quickly  into  the  middle  of  the  street. 
The  two  men  followed  him,  and  another  whom  he  had 
not  seen  came  upon  him  from  the  rear.  He  dodged  the 
blow  of  a  stick  which  caught  him  a  stinging  blow  upon 
the  forearm,  but  he  sprang  aside,  striking  a  furious 
blow  full  in  the  face  of  one  of  his  antagonists  and  leap- 

37 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

ing  out  of  harm's  way  as  the  third  came  on ;  and  then, 
finding  discretion  the  better  part  of  valor,  took  to  his 
heels,  emerging  into  the  Ringstrasse  some  moments 
later,  with  no  greater  damage  than  a  bruised  arm  and 
the  loss  of  his  breath  and  hat. 

The  Embassy  in  the  Metternichgasse  fortunately  wa* 
not  far  away,  and  he  reached  the  building  without  fur- 
ther mishap,  now  fully  aware  of  the  desperateness  of 
his  enemies,  whom  he  did  not  doubt  were  employed  bj 
those  whose  interests  in  his  secret  were  more  important 
even  than  those  of  the  Austrian  government.  Who? 
It  was  obvious.  There  were  other  agencies  at  work, 
which  drew  their  information  from  high  sources  with 
which  they  had  little  in  common.  A  little  bewildered 
by  the  rapid  march  of  events,  but  now  certain  of  the 
web  of  intrigue  and  hostility  of  which  he  was  the  cen- 
ter, Renwick  entered  the  office  of  the  Embassy,  breath- 
ing a  sigh  of  relief  that  he  was  again  for  the  present 
safe  within  its  familiar  portals. 

The  Ambassador  was  at  his  desk  in  his  private  office, 
and  Renwick  went  in  to  him  immediately,  the  grave  faces 
of  his  Chief  and  Captain  Otway,  the  military  attache, 
assuring  him  that  his  information  had  already  been  re- 
ceived and  discussed. 

"Ah,  Renwick,"  said  the  Ambassador,  rising,  "glad 
you've  come.  We  were  beginning  to  fear  that  something 
had  happened  to  you.  Why,  what's  the  matter?  You're 
as  white  as  a  sheet " 

"Ami,  sir?    Oh,  it's  nothing.    You  got  my  message?" 

The  ambassador  nodded  and  then  quickly,  "Give  him 
a  drink,  Otway."  And  then  as  the  other  moved  across 
the  room  to  obey,  "You  were  attacked — in  the  street?" 

Renwick  laughed.  "Oh,  don't  bother,  please.  I'm 

38 


THE  PIABSBURG  RAVEN 

quite  all  right — just  a  bit  of  a  breather — that's  all. 
You  see — I  ran  for  it.  Safer,  I  thought.  I  could 
have  done  for  the  beggars,  if  I'd  had  a  heavier  stick, 
but  I  didn't  want  to  make  a  rumpus.  You  see,  I  did 
well  in  putting  the  thing  on  paper." 

"Are  you  hurt?'* 

"Merely  a  bruised  arm.  Little  chap  with  a  stick- — 
behind  me." 

"Most  extraordinary !  I  can  hardly  believe  that  the 
government  would  dare " 

"It  isn't  the  government,  sir,  I'm  afraid,"  he  said, 
with  conviction,  as  he  took  his  whiskey  and  soda. 
"There  are  others  who  have  more  to  lose  than  the  Em- 
peror's party  by  this  revelation " 

"Yes,  that  may  be  so,"  replied  the  Ambassador  judi- 
cially, pacing  the  floor.  "Perhaps  you're  right,  Ren- 
wick.  But  now  that  you're  safe,  we  should  only  con- 
cern ourselves  with  the  greater  issue.  Tell  me  again 
in  your  own  words  all  that  has  happened  since  yes- 
terday morning." 

Renwick  obeyed,  and  it  was  far  into  the  night  before 
he  finished,  while  the  faces  of-  his  auditors  grew  grave 
again.  The  security  of  this  well  ordered  office,  with 
the  familiar  tokens  of  distant  peaceful  England  all 
about  them,  made  a  prosaic  background  for  the  visions 
which  were  flashing  through  the  minds  of  these  three 
Englishmen.  Even  now,  to  Renwick,  as  he  related  his 
experience  again,  the  whole  thing  seemed  incredible,  and 
the  reiterated  questions  of  his  Chief,  who  was  a  pru- 
dent man,  might  have  shaken  a  less  convincing  witness. 
But  Renwick  had  dreamed  no  dream,  and  the  return- 
ing ache  in  his  arm  left  no  room  to  doubt  the  actuality 
of  his  experience. 

39 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"You  have  done  England  a  service,  Renwick,"  said 
the  Ambassador  at  last,  magnanimously.  "It  isn't  often 
that  such  crumbs  of  information  are  offered  us — in 
such  a  way.  But  we  will  take  them — and  digest  them 
overnight.  I  want  to  sleep  on  this  matter.  And  you — 
you  will  stay  here  tonight,  Renwick.  It  will  be  safer. 
Until  tomorrow,  gentlemen " 

And  so  he  dismissed  them. 


CHAPTER  IV 

SECRET  INFORMATION 

AN  ambassador  has  been  wittily  described  as  an 
honest  man  sent  to  "lie"  abroad  for  the  common- 
wealth. He  is  supposed  to  be  familiar  with  all 
the  scandal  and  intrigue  of  the  court  to  which  he  is  ac- 
credited, to  be  possessed  of  countless  incriminating  se- 
crets, and  to  steer  his  way  amid  the  maze,  disturbing 
no  ghost  or  skeleton  of  family  or  government,  preserv- 
ing the  while  a  calm  punctilio  and  an  exterior  of  fath- 
omless simplicity.  The  ambassador  of  modern  Europe 
is  at  once  a  Chesterfield,  a  Machiavelli,  and  a  Vidocq. 
He  must  be  a  lamb,  a  lion,  and  a  ferret.  He  must  fly 
upon  the  wing  of  occasion,  he  must  condescend  to  act 
as  messenger  boy  to  his  Prime  Minister,  he  must  con- 
duct a  business  office  and  a  fashionable  restaurant  and 
successfully  run  a  detective  bureau. 

Something  of  the  ambitions  of  Franz  Ferdinand  and 
his  wife  had  been  known  to  the  Right  Honorable  Sir 
Herbert  Southgate;  the  Archduke's  visit  with  his  wife 
to  the  court  of  St.  James  was  significant,  and  their  stay 
at  Potsdam  dutifully  recorded  at  Berlin,  had  shown 
something  of  the  nature  of  the  rapprochement  between 
Archduke  and  Kaiser.  The  visit  of  the  Kaiser  to  the 
Archduke's  hunting  lodge  at  Eckartzau  on  the  Danube, 
had  set  tongues  wagging,  and  private  information  had 
served  to  warn  Sir  Herbert  that  an  understanding 

41 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

had  been  brought  about.  The  visit  to  the  roses  of 
Konopisht  had  not  deceived  the  Ambassador,  for  it 
v/as  known  that  a  pact  of  some  sort  had  been  made,  but 
the  revelations  of  Mr.  Ren  wick  had  been  of  a  nature  to 
appall. 

A  night  of  deliberation  had  done  little  to  obliterate 
the  Ambassador's  grave  fears  for  the  future,  and  he 
communicated  at  once  in  code  and  in  full  with  the  Home 
Government.  He  lost  little  time  upon  the  following 
day  in  setting  in  motion  all  the  devices  he  possessed  for 
obtaining  secret  information  as  to  the  effect  of  Countess 
Strahni's  startling  disclosures. 

For  several  months  the  surface  of  the  diplomatic  pool 
had  been  ominously  placid.  Few  ripples  had  disturbed 
its  surface,  save  those  occasional  ones  from  the  direc- 
tion of  unquiet  Serbia.  But  the  waters  were  seething 
now,  stirred  to  their  very  lees  by  plot  and  counterplot. 
The  advices  received  by  the  Ambassador  were  alarming. 
Had  the  attack  upon  Hugh  Renwick  failed  to  advise  him 
that  the  military  party  possessed  full  knowledge  of 
the  Countess  Strahni's  disclosures,  he  should  soon  have 
discovered  it.  There  was  an  undercurrent  of  intrigue 
in  various  high  offices  which  advised  him  that  communi- 
cations of  the  greatest  importance  were  passing.  His 
own  interests,  of  course,  were  best  served  by  a  studied 
innocence  and  unconcern,  and  his  public  appearances, 
both  social  and  official,  gave  no  sign  of  his  intimate 
knowledge  of  approaching  calamity. 

The  first  surface  indication  of  the  turmoil  was  a 
polite  note  from  the  ministry,  stating  that  his  second 
secretary,  Hugh  Renwick,  was  persona  non  grata  to  the 
Austrian  government,  and  requesting  his  recall.  This 
indicated  a  definite  purpose  neither  to  ignore  nor  con- 


done,  and  in  itself  was  a  surprising  admission  of  the 
facts.  The  Ambassador  by  note  expressed  his  high 
opinion  of  the  abilities  of  his  secretary  and  requested 
the  Ministry's  reasons  for  their  decision.  They  merely 
repeated  their  former  request  without  explanations. 
And  so  the  Ambassador,  with  a  smile,  which  had  a  world 
of  meaning,  offered  Renwick  his  passports. 

But  Renwick  had  no  desire  or  intention  to  leave  Vi- 
enna. He  merely  removed  his  personal  belongings  to 
his  apartment  and  stayed.  That  he  had  ventured  into 
deep  political  currents  he  was  now  sure,  for  though 
he  moved  with  great  care,  he  was  aware  of  being  fol- 
lowed and  once  he  was  shot  at  in  a  quiet  street  in  broad 
daylight.  He  made  no  complaint  to  the  authorities,  but 
only  moved  with  greater  discretion,  sure  that  the  in- 
terests that  desired  his  elimination  were  not  among  the 
Austrians.  From  the  point  of  view  of  the  Austrian 
government  he  was  merely  a  discredited  Englishman, 
and  therefore  a  person  of  no  importance.  That  the 
Countess  Marishka  had  apparently  also  reached  the 
same  conclusion  was  evident,  for  though  he  called  sev- 
eral times  at  the  apartment  of  the  Baroness  Raco- 
witz,  he  was  not  admitted. 

With  theories  of  his  own  as  to  the  probable  effect  of 
the  Countess  Strahni's  bombshell,  Renwick  began  some 
investigations  which  he  conducted  with  great  tact  and 
secrecy.  The  forthcoming  visit  of  the  Archduke  Franz 
to  Sarajevo  had  assumed  suddenly  a  vital  importance. 
One  morning  after  a  night  conference  with  Sir  Herbert 
he  took  the  train  for  Belgrade.  When  he  returned  a 
few  days  later  he  was  again  closeted  with  the  British 
Ambassador,  and  when  night  fell,  he  went  direct  to  the 
apartment  of  the  Baroness  Racowitz,  succeeding  by  a 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

handsome  bribe  to  the  servant  at  the  door  in  sending  a 
note  to  the  Countess  Marishka,  which  read  as  follows — 

COUNTESS  MARISHKA  STRAHNI, 

A  friend  of  yours  is  in  grave  danger,  chiefly  through 
your  agency.  I  pray  that  you  will  see  me,  if  only  for  a 
moment.  In  doing  so  you  will  secure  for  yourself  an  op- 
portunity of  doing  a  service  which  you  can  never  regret. 

HUGH  RENWICK. 

When  the  servant  returned,  some  moments  later, 
Renwick  was  shown  into  the  drawing  room,  with  the 
word  that  the  Countess  Strahni  would  see  him.  She 
appeared  almost  immediately,  her  face  a  little  pallid, 
her  manner  restrained,  her  accents  frigidly  polite.  But 
the  dark  eyes  were  luminous,  the  brows  were  drawn  in- 
ward, and  her  voice  trembled  slightly  as  she  spoke  his 
name. 

"Herr  Renwick,  I  can  hardly  believe  that  you  would 
impose  so  difficult  a  situation  were  it  not  that  something 
of  importance  has  occurred " 

"It  has,  Countess  Strahni,"  he  said  gravely,  then 
paused.  "I  beg  that  you  will  believe  me.'* 

She  sank  into  a  chair  and  motioned  for  him  to  be 
seated,  but  he  remained  standing,  his  eyes  studying  the 
fine  line  of  her  neck  and  shoulder  as  she  bent  forward, 
her  gaze  upon  the  rug.  There  was  something  almost 
childish  in  her  imperiousness.  He  wanted  to  take  her 
in  his  arms  and  hold  her  there  as  he  would  have  done  a 
spoiled  child,  and  trust  the  issue  to  his  strength  and 
her  weakness,  but  the  quick  tap  of  her  slippered  toe 
upon  the  carpet  warned  him  that  his  mission  was  deli- 
cate. 

"Proceed,  if  you  please,"  she  said  after  a  moment. 

44 


SECRET  INFORMATION 

"You  may  not  know,  but  a  few  days  after  my  return 
from  Konopisht,  my  connection  with  the  British  Em- 
bassy ceased " 

"I  have  heard,"  she  broke  in  quickly,  in  a  suppressed 
tone;  "I  am  sorry." 

"But  my  interests  in  the  political  aspect  of  affairs 
were  so  great  that  I  could  not  leave  Vienna." 

"At  least  I  am  not  to  blame  for  the  actions  of  the 
ministry." 

"Naturally.  I  suppose  I  might  attribute  all  my 
misfortunes  to  the  roses  of  Konopisht,"  he  said. 

She  glanced  up  at  him  quickly  and  a  little  scorn- 
fully, but  she  swallowed  nervously  and  her  toe  accel- 
erated its  tapping  upon  the  rug. 

"I  beg  that  you  will  come  to  the  point  of  your  visit," 
she  said  quickly. 

"I  will,"  he  went  on  easily.  "The  possession  of  State 
secrets  has  given  me  an  interest  in  Austrian  affairs 
which  has  created  a  pardonable  curiosity.  Fortune  has 
favored  my  investigations  and  I  have  learned  much  here 
in  Vienna.  I  have  learned  more  in  Belgrade — and  in 
Sarajevo." 

She  glanced  up  quickly. 

"Sarajevo!    Why?" 

You  will  remember  that  the  Archduke  spoke  of  going 
there  to  see  the  maneuvers  of  his  troops  on  the  twenty- 
eighth  of  this  month." 

"Yes."  Her  eyes  stared  at  him  widely  now.  "But 
what ?" 

She  paused  uncertainly,  expecting  him  to  go  on.  In- 
stead he  waited  a  moment  as  though  seeking  his  words 
carefully. 

"The  Archduke  plans  to  take  the  Duchess  of  Hohen- 

45 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

berg  to  Sarajevo  with  him.  I  came  here  to  tell  you 
that  if  she  goes  she  will  be  in  great  danger " 

"Danger!" 

"Yes.  There  is  a  plot  against  the  life  of  the  Arch- 
duke. I  thought  that  as  a  lifelong  friend,  you  would 
like  to  know " 

"Assassination !    Holy  Virgin !    Not  that !" 

She  had  started  up  from  her  chair  and  faced  him, 
trembling  violently. 

"I  swear  to  you,"  he  said  soberly,  "that  I  have  every 
reason  for  believing  that  in  Sarajevo  the  lives  of  both 
will  hang  by  a  hair." 

"But  who ?"  she  stammered,  her  eyes  wide  with 

consternation. 

She  paused,  the  thoughts  that  had  come  first  into 
her  mind,  stifled  in  horror. 

"It  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  say.  I  am  merely  giv- 
ing my  belief  based  on  the  closest  study  of  political 
conditions." 

A  slight  color  had  come  into  her  cheeks. 

"I  am  sure  that  you  must  be  unduly  alarmed,"  she 
said  coolly.  "The  Archduke  will  be  in  the  midst  of 
his  friends — his  whole  army  at  maneuvers !"  Her  lips 
found  courage  in  a  smile.  "Why,  the  thing  is  impos- 
sible!" 

Renwick  leaned  against  the  mantel,  his  arms  folded, 
and  went  on  steadily. 

"The  thing  is  not  impossible,  Countess  Strahni.  The 
danger  to  Franz  Ferdinand  is  very  real — a  danger  that 
no  army  of  Austrian  soldiers  can  minimize.  He  goes 
to  a  hostile  neighborhood.  He  is  not  loved  in  Sara- 
jevo. Should  not  this  be  sufficient?" 

"You  trouble  me,"  she  muttered,  passing  a  hand  be- 

46 


fore  her  eyes.    "But  I  must  know  more.    An  Archduke 
must  have  enemies " 

"But  this  Archduke !  Can  you  conceive  of  no  reason 
why  Franz  Ferdinand  should  be  in  danger?"  he  asked 
meaningly. 

She  searched  his  face  quickly,  in  her  eyes  the  truth 
dawning. 

"You  mean ?" 

He  shrugged. 

"You  should  know  what  I  mean." 

"I  cannot  believe "  she  halted  again. 

"Countess  Strahni,"  he  went  on  quickly,  "were  I  still 
a  member  of  the  staff  of  the  British  Embassy,  I  should 
not  speak.  I  do  not  even  now  accuse  any  group  or 
political  party  of  participation  in  this  plot.  The  Em- 
peror at  least  is  guiltless.  Death  has  already  done  its 
worst  to  him.  The  matter  is  out  of  his  hands.  But  I 
do  know  that  such  a  plot  exists.  Franz  Ferdinand  will 
not  return  alive  from  Sarajevo  and  if  the  Duchess  of 
Hohenberg  accompanies  him,  she,  too "  * 

"It  is  horrible — and  I — I  will  have  been  the 
cause " 

She  sank  into  her  chair  and  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands. 

"Perhaps  now  you  will  understand  my  motive  in  com- 
ing to  you,"  he  said  softly.  "I  have  no  desire  but  to 
serve  you.  England  has  no  further  concern  for  Arch- 
duke Ferdinand.  Forewarned  is  forearmed.  His  sting 
is  already  drawn.  But  death,  like  this — sudden,  violent, 
without  a  chance — England  has  never  looked  with  kind- 
ness upon  the  killing  of  women,  Countess  Strahni." 

"It  is  horrible,"  she  whispered.    "Horrible !    I  cannot 

believe " 

47 


"Unfortunately  I  can  give  you  none  of  the  sources 
of  my  information.  But  whatever  my  sins  in  your  eyes, 
at  least  you  will  admit  that  I  am  not  given  to  exag- 
geration. You  may  still  believe  that  I  have  taken  a  lib- 
erty in  coming  to  you;  but  the  situation  admits  of  no 
delay.  The  telegraph  lines  are  in  the  hands  of  the 
Archduke's  enemies.  The  Archduke  and  Duchess  leave 
Konopisht  in  the  morning  by  special  train,  but  there  is 
still  time  to  reach  them." 

MarisnKa  had  risen,  and  was  now  pacing  the  floor,  her 
hands  nervously  clasped  before  her. 

"I  see.  I — I — understand.  I — I  should  be  grateful 
that  you  have  told  me.  But  it  is  all  so  sudden.  So 
terrible !" 

She  paused  before  him. 

"I  have  betrayed  her,"  she  stammered  through  pal- 
lid lips. 

"You  could  do  nothing  else.  His  fortunes  are 
hers " 

"But  not  this "  she  whispered.  "It  is  too 

ghastly !" 

There  was  a  long  pause,  and  then,  "Will  you  make 
the  effort?"  he  asked. 

"Yes." 

"You  must  leave  in  an  hour." 

"But  how ?" 

She  looked  at  Renwick  and  their  glances  met. 

"I  will  go  with  you,"  he  said  coolly. 

His  gaze  was  on  the  dial  of  his  watch  which  he  had 
taken  from  his  pocket  and  was  regarding  judicially. 
His  calmness,  his  impudence,  enraged  her.  She  had 
sworn,  because  of  his  falseness,  that  she  would  never 
see  this  man  again,  and  here  he  was  calmly  proposing 

48 


SECRET  INFORMATION 

a  night  journey  into  Bohemia,  and  she  was  actually  lis- 
tening to  him. 

She  turned  quickly  toward  the  door  and  stood,  one 
hand  grasping  the  portiere,  while  she  turned  a  white 
face  toward  him. 

"Thanks,  Herr  Renwick,"  she  said  icily,  "but  I  go 
alone " 

"That  is  impossible.  There  is  danger.  A  night  j  our- 
ney  in  a  train  of  uncertain  quality — 

"I  hope  that  you  will  not  waste  words.  I  thank  you 
for  what  you  have  done,  but  I — I  must  go  at  once •" 

Renwick  took  a  pace  toward  her. 

"Countess  Strahni,  if  you  will  listen  to  me— " 

But  he  got  no  farther,  for  he  knew  that  her  will  was 
as  strong  as  his  own,  and  that  forgiveness  was  not  to 
be  read  in  her  eyes. 

"I  beg  that  you  will  excuse  me,  Herr  Renwick.  The 
time  is  short " 

He  bowed  gravely. 

"At  least,  you  will  permit  me  to  order  you  a 
fiacre " 

She  nodded  in  assent  as  though  to  be  rid  of  him  and 
then  turned  and  went  up  the  stairs  leaving  Renwick  to 
find  his  way  out  into  the  darkness  of  the  street. 

Marishka  hurried  to  her  room  and  rang  for  her 
maid.  In  spite  of  the  turbulence  of  her  thoughts,  she 
gave  her  orders  calmly  and  then  prepared  for  the  jour- 
ney. The  imminence  of  the  danger  to  Sophie  Chotek 
should  have  obsessed  her  to  the  exclusion  of  all  per- 
sonal considerations,  but  while  she  dressed  she  could 
not  help  thinking  of  the  imperturbable  impudence  of 
her  visitor.  His  kindness,;  his  thought  fulness,  the  fact 
that  he  had  done  her  a  service,  and  was  at  this  very 

49 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

moment  doing  her  another,  gave  her  a  sense  of  being  in 
a  false  position,  which  made  her  most  uncomfortable. 
And  yet  one  could  not  treat  with  contumely  a  person 
who  acted  in  one's  interests.  His  calmness,  his  assur- 
ance enraged  her.  She  would  never  see  him  again,  of 
course,  but  she  seemed  to  feel  the  need  of  some  final 
words  to  convince  him  of  the  depth  of  her  disdain.  He 
was  so  calm,  so  gravely  cheerful,  so  assured,  so  mad- 
deningly considerate!  She  wondered  now  why  she  had 
not  led  him  on  to  a  renewed  plea  for  forgiveness,  that 
she  might  the  more  effectually  have  crushed  him. 

But  her  duty  to  Sophie  Chotek  soon  drove  these  spec- 
ulations as  to  the  unfortunate  Herr  Renwick  from  her 
mind.  Suppose  that  Sophie  Chotek  questioned  closely 
as  to  the  reasons  for  Marishka's  sudden  departure. 
What  should  she  say?  The  Duchess  was  not  one  who 
could  easily  forgive  a  wrong.  Her  placid  exterior 
served  well  to  conceal  a  strength  of  purpose  which  had 
already  brought  her  many  enemies  in  the  Royal  House. 
That  she  was  capable  of  tenderness  was  shown  in  her 
adoration  of  her  children  and  in  the  many  kindnesses 
she  had  shown  Marishka  herself,  but  there  was,  too,  a 
strain  of  the  Czech  in  her  nature,  which  harbored  griev- 
ances and  was  not  above  retaliation.  Marishka's  cause, 
as  a  loyal  Austrian's,  was  just,  and  she  had  not  faltered 
in  doing  what  she  knew  to  be  her  duty,  but  the  thought 
of  seeking  the  Duchess  now  that  she  had  betrayed  her, 
required  all  of  her  courage.  She  had  balked  an  ambi- 
tious woman,  stultified  all  her  efforts  to  advance  the 
fortunes  of  her  children,  and  had  written  her  husband 
before  the  House  of  Habsburg  a  traitor  to  his  Emperor 
and  his  country.  What  if  she  had  heard  something  and 
suspected?  Would  the  Duchess  even  listen  to  a  plea 

50 


SECRET  INFORMATION 

for  her  own  life  and  safety  from  the  lips  of  one  who 
had  proven  an  enemy,  a  bread  and  salt  traitor  to  the 
Houses  of  Austria-Este  and  Chotek  and  Wognin? 

But  Marishka  did  not  falter,  and  when  the  fiacre 
came  to  the  door  she  descended  quickly.  The  Baroness 
fortunately  had  gone  upon  a  visit  to  friends  in  the 
country,  but  Marishka  left  a  note  with  her  maid  which 
explained  her  absence,  and  departed  alone  for  the  rail- 
road station,  feeling  very  helpless  and  forlorn,  but  none 
the  less  determined  to  see  her  venture  through  to  its 
end. 

She  wore  a  gray  traveling  dress  and  was  heavily 
veiled,  and  when  she  reached  the  station,  the  guard 
showed  her  immediately  into  an  unoccupied  compart- 
ment. This,  it  seemed,  was  unusual,  as  her  watch  in- 
dicated that  only  a  few  moments  remained  before  the 
train  should  leave.  But  she  settled  herself  comfort- 
ably, grateful  for  her  seclusion,  whatever  its  cause,  and 
closed  her  eyes  in  an  effort  to  sleep. 

The  last  warning  words  of  the  guards  had  been  given 
and  the  train  was  already  in  motion  when  she  heard  a 

warning  "Sh "  at  the  open  window,  where  a  head 

and  a  pair  of  shoulders  appeared,  followed  immediately 
by  an  entire  body  which  was  suddenly  projected  through 
the  opening  and  landed  head  first  upon  the  floor.  Ma- 
rishka had  risen,  a  scream  on  her  lips,  but  something 
familiar  in  the  conformation  of  the  figure  restrained 
her.  The  tangle  of  legs  and  arms  took  form,  and  a  head 
appeared,  wearing  a  monocle  and  a  smile.  It  was  the 
imperturbable  but  persistent  Herr  Renwick. 


CHAPTER  V 

TWO  INTRUDERS 

MARISHKA  was  too  dismayed  for  a  moment  to 
trust  her  tongue  to   speech.      That   she  was 
angry  she  knew,  for  she  felt  the  blood  rising 
to  her  temples,  and  the  words  that  hung  on  her  lips 
were  bitter,  cruel  and  unreasoning. 

"It  is  a  pity,  Herr  Renwick,"  she  began  quite  dis- 
tinctly in  English,  "that  you  have  neither  the  good 
taste  nor  the  intelligence  to  leave  me  to  my  own  de- 
vices." 

Renwick  gathered  up  his  stick  and  straw  hat,  bowed 
politely  and  seated  himself  opposite  her.  Indeed,  as 
the  train  was  now  moving  rapidly,  no  other  course  was 
open  to  him.  But  he  wore  no  look  of  recantation.  His 
calmness  was  more  impudent  than  ever,  and  he  even 
took  out  and  reset  his  monocle. 

"Oh,  I  say,  Countess  Strahni,"  he  said,  "that's 
rather  rough  on  a  chap.  I  had  to  come.  It  was  wiser, 
you  know.'* 

"I  care  nothing  for  your  wisdom,"  she  said  scorn- 
fully. "If  it  is  no  more  firmly  seated  than  your  sense 
of  honor,  it  can  be  of  little  value  to  you  or  to  me." 

"I'm  sorry.  I  will  try  not  to  interfere  with  your 
comfort ' 

"You — you  arranged  this" — as  the  thought  came  to 
her — "this  opportunity  for  a  tete-a-tete?" 

52 


TWO  INTRUDERS 


"The  Countess  Strahni's  conception  of  a  tete-a-tete 
may  differ  from  mine,"  he  said  with  a  smile. 

But  his  coolness  only  inflamed  her  the  more. 

"You  have  taken  an  unpardonable  liberty,"  she  said 
wildly.  "You  have  already  passed  the  bounds  of  de- 
cency or  consideration.  You  have  been  not  only  impu- 
dent but  ridiculous.  One  service  you  have  done  me  to- 
night. I  thank  you.  You  may  do  me  another—  by 
getting  out  at  the  first  station." 

He  folded  his  arms  and  regarded  her  gravely. 

"I  regret  that  that  is  impossible.'* 

"Why,  please?" 

"Because  I  propose  to  go  with  you  to  Konopisht,  and 
to  accompany  you  upon  your  return." 

"You—  you  --  !" 

"One  moment,  please,"  he  said  quietly  and  with 
some  show  of  spirit.  "It  is  not  necessary  that  you 
should  have  a  further  misconception  of  my  motives  or 
of  my  agility.  I  did  not  seek  this  —  er  —  tete-a-tete. 
My  servant  engaged  this  carriage.  I  had  not  hoped 
to  have  the  honor  of  accompanying  you.  Unfor- 
tunately, circumstances  forced  a  change  of  plan." 

"Circumstances  !"  she  said  contemptuously. 

He  bowed  slightly.  "As  a  discredited  Englishman, 
I  still  possess,  it  seems,  some  interest  for  certain  citi- 
zens of  Austria.  I  only  discovered  the  fact  this  eve- 
ning when  leaving  the  apartment  of  the  Baroness." 

"You  were  followed  again?"  she  asked  quickly,  her 
interest  in  the  fact  mastering  her  animosity. 

"The  object  of  my  visit  to  you  has  been  guessed.  I 
was  followed  —  but  you  were  followed  also." 


"Yes—  to  the  station." 

53 


"And  where " 

"Booked  through  to  Konopisht  not  a  foot  from  the 
back  of  your  head  in  the  adjoining  compartment 

And  then  as  she  straightened  in  alarm  and  regarded 
the  cushioned  seat  behind  her  in  sudden  terror,  "But 
I  do  not  think  you  need  be  unduly  alarmed.  We 
can " 

"They  are  following  •me!"  she  whispered.  "But 
why?  Why?" 

"Because  of  your  friendship  with  the  Duchess.  Those 
who  plan  the  death  of  the  Archduke  are  in  no  humor 
to  fail." 

"Incredible!  And  they "  she  halted  again, 

breathless  with  apprehension. 

"I  fear,  Countess  Strahni,  that  your  mission  to  Ko- 
nopisht has  now  become  a  difficult  one.  That  is  why 
I  thought  it  better  to  go  with  you.  The  men  who  are 
following  you  are  moving  with  considerable  insolence 
and  confidence.  They  will  carry  out  their  orders  un- 
less circumvented." 

"But  how?"  she  whispered,  her  anger  of  a  moment 
ago  magically  transmuted.  "What  can  I  do?" 

He  gazed  out  of  the  window  at  the  blur  of  night  and 
gmiled. 

"To  begin  with,"  he  said  politely,  "they  think  you 
are  alone.  You  see,  I  might  help  you,  Countess  Strah- 
ni, if  you  could  manage  to  endure  my  presence  for  a 
few  hours." 

It  was  Renwick's  innings  and  he  made  the  most  of 
them.  Indeed,  Marishka  sat  leaning  forward  looking 
at  him  appealingly,  aware  that  after  all  here  was  the 
only  prop  she  had  to  lean  upon  in  this  extremity.  She 
did  not  speak.  The  wrong  he  had  done  her  and  Aus- 

54 


TWO  INTRUDERS 


tria  was  great — unforgivable,  but  the  merit  of  his 
service  in  this  situation  was  unmistakable.  Inimical  as 
he  might  be  to  the  sentiments  in  her  heart,  there  was 
no  disguising  the  relief  his  presence  gave  her  or  the 
confidence  that  radiated  from  his  calm  assurance. 

"One  of  the  men  I  have  seen  before,"  he  said.  "He 
has  gained  some  celebrity  in  the  Secret  Service.  You 
see,  we  must  give  them  the  slip  before  we  get  to  Bud- 
weis.  This  train  makes  several  stops.  It  ought  not  to 
be  difficult." 

The  plural  pronoun  seemed  quite  inoffensive  now, 
and  she  even  uttered  it — herself. 

"Yes,"  breathlessly;  "but  suppose  thej  tried  to 
stop  us?" 

"Er — that  would  be  most  unfortunate,"  he  muttered, 
as  though  to  himself. 

"You  don't  think  they  will,  do  you?"  she  appealed. 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  he  said  thoughtfully. 

For  some  moments  he  said  nothing  and  Marishka, 
whose  pride  had  come  again  to  her  rescue,  gazed  stead- 
ily out  of  the  window  away  from  him,  trying  to  forget 
her  dependence  upon  her  companion,  whose  initiative 
and  devotion  were  hourly  growing  more  in  importance. 
Whatever  his  private  purposes  in  aiding  her,  and  she 
had  no  reason  to  doubt  his  disinterestedness,  for  the 
present  at  least  they  had  a  common  duty  to  humanity 
which  must  be  performed  at  any  costs  to  prejudice  or 
pride. 

At  the  next  station  a  surprise  awaited  them.  The 
door  of  their  compartment  was  opened,  a  man  entered 
and  bowing  most  politely,  quickly  closed  the  door  be- 
hind him.  Marishka  examined  him  with  apprehension, 
noticing  that  he  seemed  more  interested  in  the  English- 

55 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

man  than  in  herself,  for  in  the  brief  glance  he  gave 
Renwick,  the  suavity  of  his  demeanor  seemed  for  a  brief 
moment  to  have  changed. 

He  was  a  person  of  middle  age,  tall,  stockily  built, 
but  withal  rather  jaunty  in  appearance,  and  when  he 
smiled  again  he  disclosed  a  gold  tooth  which  seemed  to 
Marishka  for  some  reason  inexpressibly  reassuring. 
He  rubbed  his  hands  together  and  looked  a  great  deal 
like  a  successful  head-waiter  in  mufti.  But  he  glanced 
from  one  to  the  other  quickly  and  settled  himself  in  a 
corner  with  an  air  of  being  very  much  at  home,  which 
removed  the  earlier  impression.  Renwick  took  the  in- 
itiative at  once. 

"A  pleasant  evening,"  he  said  to  the  newcomer,  in. 
German. 

"One  might  say  so,"  replied  the  other,  bowing  calmly. 

"But  one  doesn't?"  asked  Renwick.  "The  condi- 
tions are  not  so  propitious  as  they  were  a  while  ago. 
A  storm  is  brewing  perhaps?" 

The  man  examined  him  steadily,  aware  of  the  double 
meaning,  but  only  smiled  again.  Renwick  got  up  and 
with  great  deliberateness,  moved  the  length  of  the  aisle, 
and,  while  Marishka  followed  him  with  her  gaze,  seated 
himself  directly  opposite  the  intruder.  The  man  made 
a  movement  with  his  right  hand  which  he  put  into  the 
side  pocket  of  his  coat,  but  as  Renwick  sat,  he  smiled 
again  and  shrugged. 

"You  arc  traveling  to  Budweis  and  beyond?"  asked 
the  Englishman. 

"To  Budweis  and  beyond,"  said  the  other  coolly. 
"And  I  would  advise  Herr  Renwick,"  he  went  on  quickly, 
"that  the  hotels  of  Budweis  are  excellent." 

"Ah!"  That  he  had  come  out  into  the  open  suited 

56 


TWO  INTRUDERS 


Renwick's  plans  excellently.  He  removed  his  monocle 
and  slipped  it  into  a  waistcoat  pocket.  "To  be  sure. 
Budweis.  Unfortunately  the  lady  whom  I  have  the 
honor  to  accompany,  visits  friends  at  some  idistance  in 
the  country." 

"The  Countess  Strahni  must  go  to  the  Kaiser  von 
Oesterreich  Hotel  at  Budweis  tonight,"  he  said  with 
precision.  "It  is  near  the  station.'*  And  then  quickly 
"I  would  also  advise  Herr  Renwick  to  move  at  once 
to  the  other  end  of  the  compartment." 

Renwick  stared  at  him  for  a  moment  as  though  he 
had  not  understood  his  meaning  and  then  shrugged  and 
rose.  Polite  amenities  had  ceased.  He  turned  half 
toward  Marishka  and  then,  without  warning,  threw 
himself  furiously  at  the  man. 

There  was  a  muffled  discharge  as  the  stranger  at- 
tempted to  draw  the  weapon  from  his  pocket,  but  the 
bullet  did  no  damage,  and  the  Englishman's  blow, 
fiercely  struck,  sent  the  other  reeling  sideways.  He 
smiled  no  longer,  but  struggled  upward  gamely.  Ren- 
wick had  caught  his  pistol  hand  and  forced  him 
down  to  the  floor,  where  he  pinioned  him  with  his 
weight. 

The  whole  affair  had  happened  so  quickly  that  after 
one  gasp  of  terror,  Marishka  had  sat  stupefied  with 
horror.  But  as  the  struggle  continued,  the  man  on  the 
floor  began  to  shout  lustily  for  help,  and  she  sprang 
to  the  aid  of  the  Englishman,  who  was  choking  the  man 
by  twisting  his  cravat. 

"Your  veil — quick,"  he  stammered  breathlessly.  And 
after  she  had  given  it  to  him,  "Now,  take  the  revolver 
from  his  coat  pocket." 

She  obeyed.  Most  of  the  fight  was  out  of  their  an- 

57 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

tagonist,  and  the  muzzle  of  the  automatic,  thrust  be- 
neath his  nose,  completed  his  subjugation.  After  they 
had  gagged  him,  they  bound  his  wrists  and  ankles  with 
handkerchiefs,  and  then  straightened  and  looked  at  each 
other,  listening.  Marishka's  eyes  were  sparkling  and 
the  color  was  coming  back  into  her  cheeks. 

"He — he  might  have  killed  you,"  she  stammered  in 
English. 

"Or  I  him,"  said  Renwick.  "Thank  the  Lord,  I 
didn't  have  to.  Do  you  think  they  heard  ?" 

They  listened  again,  but  there  was  no  sound  above 
the  roar  of  the  train. 

"We'll  have  to  get  out  of  this — at  the  first  stop — 
and  run  for  it.  I  don't  know  where  we  are,  but  Bud- 
weis  can't  be  far  off.  You  still  want  to  go  on?" 

"Yes,  I  must,"  she  cried  resolutely.  "I  must.  Oh, 
God,  if  I  failed  now,  I  could  never  forgive  myself." 

"You  see — they're  determined " 

He  paused,  staring  at  the  mummy  upon  the  floor, 
who  had  raised  his  head.  One  eye  was  badly  damaged, 
but  the  other  was  frowning  at  them  comically.  But 
neither  Renwick  nor  Marishka  felt  like  laughing.  Ren- 
wick  started  suddenly  toward  the  window  and 
peered  out,  for  the  train  was  coasting  and  ahead  of 
them  in  the  distance  he  saw  the  lights  of  a  station. 

"Quickly !"  he  said  to  the  girl.  "There's  nothing  for 
it  but  to  go  out  on  the  opposite  side.  The  door  is 
locked."  He  glanced  at  the  prostrate  figure.  And 
then  to  Marishka,  "You  must  follow  me." 

He  did  not  wait  for  her  answer,  but  opening  the 
closed  window  he  swung  himself  from  the  floor  by  a 
grip  on  the  door  jamb,  put  his  feet  out  and  lowered  him- 
self to  the  running  board.  The  brakes  were  on  now 

58 


TWO  INTRUDERS 


as  the  train  approached  the  station,  but  still  Marishka 
hesitated. 

Renwick's  face  appeared  in  the  aperture.  "All 
clear,"  he  whispered,  "the  tracks  on  this  side  are  empty. 
Wait  until  the  train  stops  and  then  step  out — quickly, 
please." 

There  was  no  denying  his  command  of  her  and  of  the 
situation,  and,  difficult  as  the  feat  appeared,  in  a  mo- 
ment she  was  sitting  on  the  sill,  her  feet  depending  out- 
side into  the  darkness,  where  Renwick  without  another 
word  seized  her  in  his  arms  and  lowered  her  to  the  step 
beside  them,  thrilled  by  the  danger  of  her  flight,  but 
ready  to  follow  wherever  he  led. 

With  a  grinding  of  brakes  the  train  stopped,  but  they 
got  down  quickly,  and  in  a  moment  had  dodged  behind 
a  building,  and  listening  for  sounds  of  pursuit,  made 
their  way  up  the  dimly  lighted  street  of  a  small  town. 
It  was  not  yet  midnight  and  there  were  signs  of  activ- 
ity here  and  there.  She  hurried  beside  Renwick  blindly, 
content  as  he  was  for  the  present  to  put  as  much  dis- 
tance as  possible  between  themselves  and  the  railroad 
station.  They  listened  anxiously  for  the  train  to  move, 
but  there  was  no  sound  of  bell  or  exhaust.  The  distant 
shouts  seemed  more  ominous.  Renwick  only  glanced 
behind  them  and  hurried  the  pace.  He  led  her  around 
a  corner,  into  a  well-lighted  street  where  an  automobile, 
its  engine  running,  was  standing  before  a  rather  preten- 
tious house.  He  ran  up  to  it  and  examined  it  quickly. 

"It's  really  too  bad,"  he  muttered,  with  a  quick 
glance  toward  the  house,  "but  our  need  is  great,"  and 
got  in,  Marishka  following  without  a  word.  "It's  a 
Mercedes,  thank  God,"  he  whispered.  "I  hope  it 
will  go." 

59 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

It  did,  with  a  sputter  and  roar  which  brought 
a  shouting  figure  to  the  door  of  the  house,  but  Ren- 
wick  was  beyond  stopping  and  turned  blindly  at  the 
next  turning  and  followed  the  street  through  the  sleep- 
ing town  into  a  well-traveled  country  road,  which  led 
straight  onward  toward  the  setting  moon. 

"I  haven't  the  slightest  notion  where  we're  going," 
he  said  presently,  "but  we  seem  to  be  on  our  way." 

Marishka  found  herself  laughing  nervously.  She 
wasn't  in  the  least  amused,  but  the  strain  was  telling 
on  her. 

"Nice  chap — the  owner  of  this  car,  to  put  it  just 
there.  I'll  have  to  buy  it,  I  suppose.  No  end  of  a 
good  machine.  I  wonder  if  he  thought  to  fill  the  tank." 

Renwick  ran  the  car  up  a  long  hill  which  it  took  with 
ease,  and  at  the  summit  the  moonlit  summer  landscape 
was  visible  for  miles  in  all  directions.  There  at  a  cross- 
road the  Englishman  stopped  the  stolen  car  in  the 
shadow  of  a  tree,  got  quickly  out  and  investigated  the 
tank. 

"Plenty  of  petrol — enough  for  all  night,  I  should 
say,"  he  reported.  "And  now" — as  he  looked  around 
him  in  all  directions — "which  way?  Hanged  if  I  know." 

Marishka  was  scanning  the  valley  below  them  eagerly. 
In  the  distance  to  their  right  a  row  of  lights  moved 
slowly  into  the  night.  "The  train !"  she  said,  "Budweis 
lies  in  that  direction.  I've  often  been  over  the  road 
from  Konopisht.  If  we  can  reach  it " 

"That  ought  not  to  be  difficult.  Here  goes."  And 
he  took  the  crossroad  to  the  right. 

So  far  all  was  well,  but  the  stolen  motor  car  was  a 
dead  weight  on  Renwick's  conscience,  and  the  danger 
of  detection  was  still  most  unpleasant.  If  an  excuse 

60 


TWO  INTRUDERS 


were  needed  for  his  arrest,  a  pretext  which  would  hide 
the  real  secret  of  the  mission  of  his  pursuers,  the  lar- 
ceny of  the  machine  would  now  furnish  it.  He  had  no 
humor  to  see  the  inside  of  a  village  jail  from  which 
communication  with  the  Ambassador  would  be  difficult 
if  not  impossible.  There  were  processes  of  law  in  Aus- 
tria which  suddenly  became  formidable  to  one  in  his 
position.  But  he  drove  on,  keeping  a  lookout  for  sign 
posts,  aware  that  the  girl  beside  him,  now  that  their 
danger  was  passed,  had  again  assumed  an  uncompromis- 
ing silence  which  was  not  too  favorable  an  indication  of 
the  state  of  her  mind  and  feelings  toward  him.  He 
smiled  inwardly.  At  least  she  could  not  rob  him  of 
the  moment  when  on  the  steps  of  the  train  he  had  held 
her  in  his  arms.  He  did  not  doubt  that  she  was  think- 
ing of  that  moment  also,  hating  him  the  more  cordially 
because  she  was  so  dependent  on  him.  Did  she  hate 
him?  He  stole  a  glance  at  her.  She  sat  stiffly  staring 
before  her  into  the  night,  a  frown  at  her  brows,  her  lips 
closed  in  a  thin  line.  Pride? 

"Marishka,"  he  ventured  softly,  "will  you  forgive 
me?" 

Her  figure  grew  more  rigid. 

"Herr  Renwick !"  she  gasped. 

"I  love  you,"  he  broke  in.  "You  must  know  how 
much " 

"It  is  a  pity  that  I  have  already  gauged  your  capac- 
ity for  devotion,"  she  said  bitterly. 

"I  had  to  tell,  Marishka " 

"Herr  Renwick,  I  am  already  much  in  your  debt. 
Add  to  my  burden,  if  you  will,  by  keeping  silence  on  a 
matter  so  painful " 

"Forgive  me " 

61 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"Never.     You  have  betrayed  me." 

"I'll  never  give  you  up." 

"You  must.  Circumstances  have  placed  me  in  this 
false  position.  I  am  at  your  mercy.  I  beg  you  to  be 
silent." 

"You  Trill  marry  me,  some  day,  Marishka,"  he  as- 
serted cheerfully. 

"Never,"  scornfully.  "Never.  The  House  of  Strah- 
ni,  Herr  Renwick,  holds  honor  high  and  loyalty  even 
higher  than  honor " 

"There  is  another  precept  of  the  House  of  Strahni," 
he  broke  in  calmly.  "Their  women — where  they  give 
their  lips " 

"Oh,  you  are  intolerable !    I  abominate  you !" 

"And  I — I  still  adore  you,"  he  whispered.  "I  shall 
always  adore — and  serve." 

"Thank  God,  the  hour  of  your  service  nears  its  end," 
she  said  chokingly. 

"Who  knows?"  he  muttered. 

But  he  made  no  further  attempt  to  break  through 
her  reserve.  She  was  too  greatly  in  his  power.  And 
so  he  drove  in  silence,  passing  through  the  silent  streets 
of  Budweis  without  challenge  and  soon  found  himself 
upon  the  main  highroad  to  Prague,  over  which  the  two 
had  traveled  less  than  a  week  ago  in  their  hurried  flight 
to  Vienna.  The  moon  had  long  since  set,  but  when  they 
climbed  the  hills  along  the  Moldau  faint  gray  streaks 
upon  their  right  hand  proclaimed  the  coming  of  the 
dawn.  If  Marishka  was  weary  she  gave  no  sign  of  it, 
for  she  sat  bolt  upright  in  her  seat,  her  eyes  wide  open, 
staring  along  the  thin  yellow  ribbon  which  marked  their 
road.  To  the  few  questions  as  to  her  comfort  she  an- 
swered in  monosyllables,  and  at  last  he  made  no  further 

62 


effort  to  engage  her  in  a  conversation.  He  felt  no  an- 
ger at  her  rebuffs — only  tenderness — for  in  his  heart 
he  could  not  altogether  blame  her  for  her  repudiation 
of  him. 

Broad  daylight  found  them  on  the  Prague  highroad, 
not  three  miles  from  Konopisht  Schloss.  Here  Ren- 
wick  decided  to  desert  the  car  and  go  afoot  through 
the  forest  to  the  castle.  He  hid  the  machine  in  a 
thicket  and  led  the  way,  Marishka  following  silently, 
content  to  trust  herself  to  a  judgment  which  until  the 
present  moment  had  seemed  unerring.  He  glanced  at 
her  from  time  to  time,  aware  of  the  pallor  of  her  face 
and  the  fatigue  of  her  movements.  Once  when  he  turned 
he  fancied  that  her  lips  were  smiling,  but  when  he  spoke 
to  her  she  answered  him  shortly.  The  wounds  to  her 
pride  were  deep,  it  seemed,  but  he  armed  himself  with 
patience  and  smiled  at  her  reassuringly  as  they  paused 
at  the  edge  of  the  wood. 

"The  Schloss  is  just  beyond  these  woods,  I  think. 
Some  smoke  is  rising  yonder.  We  must  avoid  the  vil- 
lage. I  think  we  may  reach  the  garden  by  the  lower 
gate.  And  there  I  will  await  you,  Countess  Strahni," 
he  finished  quietly. 

It  seemed  as  though  in  giving  her  her  title,  that  he 
was  accepting  without  further  plea  any  conditions  of 
formality  in  their  relations  which  she  might  impose. 

She  waited  a  long  moment  without  moving  or  reply- 
ing. And  then  she  turned  toward  him  with  a  smile. 

"Herr  Renwick,"  she  said  gently,  "whatever  the  per- 
sonal differences  between  us,  I  owe  you  at  least  a  word 
of  gratitude  for  all  that  you  have  done.  I  thank  you 
again.  But  I  do  not  wish  you  to  wait  for  me.  I  shall 
not  trouble  you  longer." 

63 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"I  will  wait  for  you,"  he  repeated. 

"It  is  not  necessary.     I  shall  not  return." 

"You  might,  you  know,"  he  smiled.  "I  don't  mind 
waiting  at  all.  I  shall  breakfast  upon  a  cigarette." 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  her  temper  rising  again,  "you  are — 
you  are  impossible." 

With  that  she  turned  and  strode  ahead,  reaching  the 
gate  before  him  and  entering. 

"Au  revoir,  Countess  Strahni,"  he  called  after  her. 

But  she  walked  rapidly  toward  the  rose  garden  with- 
out turning  her  head,  while  Renwick,  after  lighting 
his  cigarette,  strolled  slowly  after  her,  sure  that  the 
world  was  very  beautiful,  but  that  his  path  of  love 
even  amid  the  roses  did  not  run  smoothly. 

He  reached  the  hedge  just  in  time  to  see  a  man,  one 
of  the  gardeners  he  seemed  to  be,  come  forward  along 
the  path  from  the  direction  of  the  castle  and  stand  be- 
fore Marishka  bowing.  He  saw  the  girl  turn  a  glance 
over  her  shoulder,  an  appealing  glance,  and  Renwick 
had  just  started  to  run  forward  when  from  each  tree 
and  hedge  near  him  figures  appeared  which  seemed  to 
envelop  him.  He  struck  out  to  right  and  left,  but  they 
were  too  many.  He  felt  a  stinging  blow  at  the  back 
of  his  head,  and  had  the  curious  sensation  of  seeing  the 
garden  path  suddenly  rise  and  smite  him  tremendously. 


CHAPTER  VI 

HERR  WINDT 

WHEN  Renwick  managed  again  to  summon  his 
wits,  he  found  himself  lying  in  the  dark 
where  somebody  was  bathing  his  brows  with 
a  damp  cloth.  His  head  ached  a  great  deal  and  he  lay 
for  a  moment  without  opening  his  eyes,  aware  of  soft 
fingers,  the  touch  of  which  seemed  to  soothe  the  pain 
immeasurably.  He  opened  his  eyes  to  the  semi-ob- 
scurity of  a  small  room  furnished  with  the  cot  on  which 
he  lay,  a  table  and  two  chairs.  It  was  all  very  com- 
fortable and  cozy,  but  the  most  agreeable  object  was 
the  face  of  Marishka  Strahni,  not  a  foot  from  his  own. 
Through  eyes  dimmed  by  pain  he  thought  he  read  in  her 
expression  a  divine  compassion  and  tenderness,  and 
quickly  closed  them  again  for  fear  that  his  eyes  might 
have  deceived  him.  When  he  opened  them  again  he 
murmured  her  name. 

"Marishka,"  he  said  gently,  "you — you  have  forgiven 
me?" 

But  she  had  moved  slightly  away  from  him  and  was 
now  regarding  him  impassively.  It  was  too  bad  for  his 
vision  to  have  played  him  such  a  trick.  It  was  so 
much  pleasanter  to  sleep  with  Marishka  looking  at  him 
like  that. 

"You  have  had  a  blow  upon  the  head,  Herr  Renwick," 
her  voice  came  as  from  a  distance.  "I  hope  you  are 

65 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

feeling  better.     It  was  necessary  for  me  to  bathe  your 
head  with  cold  compresses." 

Necessary!  Of  course.  But  it  would  have  been  so 
much  pleasanter  to  know  that  she  had  done  it  because 
she  wanted  to. 

"So  it  was  au  revoir,  after  all?"  he  smiled,  strug- 
gling to  a  sitting  posture. 

"You  had  better  lie  still  for  a  while,"  she  said  briefly. 

His  head  was  throbbing  painfully,  but  he  managed 
to  make  light  of  it. 

"Oh,  I'm  quite  all  right,  I  think,"  he  said  looking 
around  the  room  curiously.  "Would  you  mind  telling 
me  what  happened  and  where  we  are?" 

"They  struck  you  down  and  brought  us  here.  It's 
one  of  the  gardener's  cottages  on  the  estate." 

"And  you?" 

"They  were  very  polite  but  we  are  prisoners — for 

how  long  I  don't  know.    I've  failed,  Herr  Renwick 

she  finished  miserably. 

"Perhaps  it  isn't  too  late " 

"There  are  men  outside.  They  intend  to  keep  us 
here  for  the  present." 

"There  ought  to  be  a  way "  said  Renwick,  put- 
ting his  feet  to  the  ground.  "I  could He  stopped 

abruptly,  for  at  that  moment  he  discovered  that  the 
captured  weapon  had  been  removed  from  his  pocket. 

"I'm  afraid  it's  hopeless,"  said  Marishka  bitterly. 

Renwick  glanced  at  his  watch.  "Only  eight  o'clock. 
Even  now  we  could " 

He  rose  and  walked  to  the  window,  peering  through 
a  crack  in  the  shutter,  but  an  attack  of  vertigo  caused 
him  to  sink  into  a  chair.  She  regarded  him  dubiously, 
pride  and  compassion  struggling,  but  she  said  nothing. 

66 


HERE  WINDT 


"Beastly  stupid  of  me,"  he  groaned.  "I  might  have 
known  they'd  spare  no  detail " 

There  was  a  knock  upon  the  door,  and  at  Marishka's 
response,  a  turning  of  the  key,  and  a  man  entered.  In 
spite  of  a  discolored  eye  and  a  wrinkled  neckband,  he 
was  not  difficult  to  identify  as  their  friend  of  the  rail- 
road train.  His  manner,  however,  was  far  from  for- 
bidding, for  he  clicked  his  heels,  swept  off  his  cap  and 
smiled  slowly,  his  gold  tooth  gleaming  pleasantly. 

"Herr  Renwick  is,  I  trust,  feeling  better,"  he  said 
politely. 

Renwick  grinned  up  at  him  sheepishly. 

"I  congratulate  Herr  Windt  upon  his  adroitness,"  he 
said.  "I  fear  I  made  the  mistake  of  underestimating  his 
skill  in  divination." 

"It  was  not  inspired  enough  to  guess  that  you  were 
in  the  Countess  Strahni's  carriage,"  he  replied.  "You 
have  quick  fingers,  Herr  Renwick.  Fortunately  I  was 
aware  of  your  destination  and  knew  that  we  should 
meet.  All  is  well  that  ends  well." 

"That  depends  upon  the  point  of  view,  Herr  Windt. 
But  I  might  have  killed  you  in  the  railway  car- 
riage." 

"That  would  have  been  an  error  in  judgment,  which 
would  have  been  most  unfortunate  for  both  of  us.  I, 
too,  might  have  shot  you  through  my  pocket,  but  I  re- 
frained, at  some  hazard  to  myself.  I  try  never  to 
exceed  the  necessities  of  a  situation.  Having  performed 
my  mission  successfully  I  can  now  afford  to  be  gen- 
erous." 

"Meaning — what,  Herr  Windt?" 

"That  I  shall  keep  you  here  only  so  long  as  is  abso- 
lutely necessary."  He  glanced  at  his  watch  and  said 

67 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

significantly,  "The  Archduke's  private  train  will  leave 
here  in  half  an  hour." 

Marishka  had  listened  in  some  amazement  to  this 
conversation,  but  the  politeness  of  her  jailer  only 
angeied  her. 

"I  would  like  to  know  by  what  authority  you  im- 
prison a  loyal  citizen  of  Austria,"  she  stormed.  "Your 
identity  seems  to  have  made  some  impression  upon  Herr 
Renwick,  but  I  would  inform  you  that  I  at  least  am  not 
without  friends  to  whom  you  will  answer  for  this  out- 
rage." 

Herr  Windt  bowed  low. 

"I  beg  that  Countess  Strahni  will  reconsider  that 
word.  I  have  intended  to  act  with  great  discretion. 
Herr  Renwick  unfortunately  underestimated  the  forces 
to  which  he  was  opposed.  I  am  sorry  he  has  suffered 
injury.  As  for  you,  Countess,  I  beg  leave  to  recall 
that  those  who  have  restrained  you  have  treated  you 
with  every  consideration." 

"Who  are  you?"  she  asked  angrily. 

"Herr  Renwick  has  spoken  my  name." 

"You  are  a  member  of  the  secret  service  of  the  Aus- 
trian government?" 

He  smiled  again  and  bowed  low. 

"It  is  the  custom  of  those  in  my  trade  to  ask  ques- 
tions— not  to  answer  them.  In  this  service,  however,  it 
will  please  you  perhaps  to  know  that  I  am  not  act- 
ing for  the  Austrian  government." 

"Who   then?" 

"I  cannot  reply." 

"You  dare  not." 

"Perhaps.  But  I  am  willing  to  admit,  Countess 
Strahni,  that  the  same  motive  which  impelled  you  to 

68 


HERR  WINDT 


Schonbrunn,"  he  said  significantly,  "has  actuated  both 
myself  and  my  employers." 

"And  that  motive?" 

"The  safety  of  the  Empire." 

"Austria!     But    not    complicity    in    this    dastard- 

ly " 

At  a  warning  sound  from  Renwick  she  paused.  Herr 
Windt  was  regarding  her  gravely. 

"I  regret  that  I  do  not  comprehend  the  Countess 
Strahni's  meaning,"  he  said  with  a  bow.  "It  would 
be  a  source  of  great  unhappiness  to  me,  if  in  doing  my 
duty,  I  had  done  you  a  harm.  I  am  not  an  enemy, 
Countess,  but  a  loyal  compatriot.  I  may  add  that 
I  am  prepared  to  do  what  I  can  to  protect  you  from 
the  results  of  your  unfortunate  connection  with  a  dan- 
gerous political  situation." 

"Protect!  You!"  Marishka  smiled  bitterly  and 
glanced  ironically  around  the  walls  of  the  cabin. 

"I  beg  to  assure  you  that  I  am  not  jesting.  Herr 
Renwick  will  recall  that  he  was  attacked  one  night  upon 
the  streets  of  Vienna.  He  was  also  shot  at  by  some 
person  unknown.  The  inspiration  for  those  assaults 
did  not  emanate  from  my  employers." 

"I  suspected  as  much,"  muttered  Renwick. 

Marishka  was  examining  Renwick  wide-eyed. 

"Shot  at!"  she  murmured. 

"The  information  in  Herr  Renwick's  possession," 
Herr  Windt  went  on  suavely,  "was  more  damaging  to 
other  interests  than  to  theirs.  Herr  Renwick's  connec- 
tion with  the  British  Embassy  has  terminated.  He 
has  merely  the  status  in  Austria  of  a  traveling  Eng- 
lishman. But  his  activities  are  dangerous  where  they 
concern  the  movements  of  the  Countess  Strahni.  I 

69 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

am  performing  an  act  of  friendship  to  a  loyal  Austrian 
in  offering  her  escort  back  to  Vienna,  where  if  she  is 
wise  she  will  remain  quietly  under  my  surveillance." 

During  this  speech,  of  which  Herr  Windt  delivered 
himself  with  much  bowing  and  rubbing  of  his  hands, 
Marishka  remained  silent,  a  wonder  growing  in  her 
eyes. 

"I  fail  to  see  how  my  presence  here  or  elsewhere  can 
interest  you  or  others,"  she  said  as  she  sank  upon  the 
cot.  Weariness  was  telling  on  her  and  the  disappoint- 
ment of  her  mission's  failure.  And  the  threat  of  dan- 
ger that  hung  in  his  words  was  hardly  reassuring. 

"Countess  Strahni  may  doubt  my  good  intentions. 
That  is  her  privilege.  In  a  short  time" — here  he  looked 
at  his  watch  again — "she  will  be  at  liberty  to  come 
and  go  as  she  chooses.  In  the  meanwhile  I  beg  that 
she  will  listen  to  me  and  heed  my  warning." 

He  looked  at  her  until  she  raised  her  head  and  signi- 
fied for  him  to  continue.  "The  agencies  which  at- 
tempted to  prevent  the  delivery  of  Herr  Renwick's 
information  to  the  British  Embassy  are  again  at  work. 
Herr  Renwick  having  been" — he  paused  and  bowed  to 
Renwick — "if  I  may  be  permitted  to  say  so — having 
been  repudiated  by  his  Ambassador  and  by  the  British 
government,  he  is  politically  a  person  of  no  importance 
— at  least  as  far  as  my  relations  with  him  are  con- 
cerned. Whatever  he  may  do  privately,  unless  it  proves 
valuable  to  the  interests  of  Austria's  enemies,  will  pass 
as  it  has  already  passed — unnoticed  in  Austria.  The 
case  of  the  Countess  Strahni  is  different " 

He  paused  a  moment  to  rub  his  hands  together 
thoughtfully. 

"I  can  not  understand " 

70 


HERR  WINDT 


"Within  the  past  twenty-four  hours  the  apartments 
of  the  Baroness  Racowitz  have  been  observed  by  per- 
sons not  in  my  service.  The  Countess  perhaps  has  had 
no  unusual  communications?" 

Marishka  started  up  in  her  chair,  while  Windt, 
watching  her,  smiled  slowly. 

"Ah,  I  was  not  mistaken "  he  said. 

"A  request  to  go  to  the  Hofburg  tonight — before 
Herr  Renwick  came,"  she  whispered,  now  thoroughly 
aroused.  "I  did  not  go.  The  signature  was  unfamiliar 
to  me." 

Herr  Windt  took  a  pace  toward  the  window  and 
peered  forth  through  the  slats  of  the  blind. 

"The  Countess  Strahni  would  not  have  reached  the 
Hofburg,"  he  said  quietly.  "She  would  have  gone — er 
— elsewhere !" 

"The  man  in  the  green  limousine!"  came  suddenly 
in  cryptic  tones  from  the  silent  Renwick. 

"Exactly.  He  followed  the  Countess  Strahni's  fiacre 
in  motor  car  to  the  Nordwest  Bahnhof." 

"And  you?" 

"We  forestalled  him — that's  all,"  he  said,  showing  his 
gold  tooth  in  a  most  ingratiating  smile,  but  there  was 
a  flash  in  the  deep  set  eyes  which  explained  much  to 
Renwick. 

"There  was  a  commotion  near  the  booking-stall," 
said  Renwick. 

"Ah,  you  witnessed?" 

"From  a  distance.     I  had  other  affairs." 

"Yes.  That  will  perhaps  make  my  laxity  with  re- 
gard to  Herr  Renwick's  sudden  appearance  the  more 
pardonable,"  said  Windt,  with  a  professional  air. 

Marishka,  who  had  listened  with  growing  inquietude 

71 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

to  these  revelations  of  her  danger,  had  risen  and  paced 
nervously  the  length  of  the  room. 

"But  why?"  she  pleaded.  "Who  can  dare  to  molest 
me  in  my  own  home  or  in  the  streets  of  Vienna?" 

Herr  Windt  rubbed  his  injured  eye  gravely. 

"The  Countess  Strahni  has  unfortunately  become  a 
political  document,  the  possession  of  which,  I  may  even 
say  the  suppression  of  which,  is  highly  important." 

Marishka  sank  upon  the  couch,  and  for  a  moment 
buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"But  what  would  be  gained  by  getting  me  out  of 
the  way?  I  have  already  told  what  I  know." 

Herr  Windt  smiled. 

"As  Herr  Renwick  would  perhaps  inform  you,  the 
place  for  an  important  document  is  the  safe.  If  the 
document  is  harmless  a  desk  may  do.  If  it  is  incrimi- 
nating, like  you,  Countess" — he  said  with  a  dramatic 
gesture — "the  fire!" 

Renwick  by  this  time  had  risen  and  stood  fitting  his 
monocle  into  his  eye. 

"Astounding!"  he  muttered.  "And  yet  I  quite  be- 
lieve you." 

"There  seems  little  room  to  doubt."  Herr  Windt 
walked  to  the  window  and  peered  out  again.  "My  men 
are  all  about  this  place,  Herr  Renwick,  and  yet  even 
now  I  am  not  certain  that  you  have  not  been  fol- 
lowed." 

He  turned  and  faced  Marishka  with  his  usual  bland 
composure.  "Herr  Renwick  should,  I  think,  be  able 
to  take  care  of  himself.  I  beg,  however,  that  Countess 
Strahni  will  not  be  unduly  anxious.  I  shall  myself  go 
outside  and  take  every  precaution."  He  turned  at  the 
door  and  bowed.  "I  beg  that  in  the  meanwhile,  you  will 

72 


HERE  WINDT 


come  to  some  decision  as  to  your  immediate  plans, 
counting  upon  my  efforts  to  aid  you.  There  is  no 
train  for  Vienna  until  this  afternoon,"  he  said  signifi- 
cantly. "I  may  add  that  the  machine  in  which  you 
came  from  Altensteig  will  be  returned  to  its  owner  by 
one  of  my  young  men,  who  will  explain  the  circum- 
stances, and  arrange  a  proper  compensation." 

With  this  parting  shot  delivered  in  his  best  profes- 
sional manner,  Herr  Windt  left  the  room  with  an  air 
of  triumphant  urbanity  which  added  not  a  little  to  the 
respect  with  which  Renwick  now  regarded  him. 

Marishka  sat  upright  on  the  bed  staring  straight 
before  her  while  Renwick  paced  the  floor  frowning. 

"If  I  could  only  have  reached  her — for  a  moment," 
said  Marishka  brokenly,  as  though  thinking  aloud. 
"She  would  have  listened  to  me — she  would  have  be- 
lieved me.  I  would  have  thrown  myself  upon  her  mercy 
— told  her  all.  It  is  horrible — a  death  like  that — when 
a  word  might  save  them  now — and  it  will  be  I — I  who 
have  killed  them "  She  started  up  staring  at  Ren- 
wick. "And  you!  Why  do  you  stand  there,  doing 
nothing?"  she  flung  at  him  wildly.  "You  learned  of 
this  thing — at  Belgrade.  Why  couldn't  you  have  pre- 
vented it?  Given  it  publicity?  Why  don't  you  do 
something  now?  England  has  power.  Why  doesn't 
your  Ambassador  speak?  Is  he  frightened?  Dumb? 
Will  he  stand  idly  by  and  see  this " 

"It  is  none  of  England's  affair,  Countess  Strahni," 
Renwick  broke  in  soothingly. 

"Then  it  is  of  Germany's?"  She  halted  as  the  new 
idea  came  to  her,  and  walked  to  the  small  table  where 
she  sank  into  a  chair  and  buried  her  head  in  her  hands, 
trying  to  think. 

73 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

After  a  while  she  raised  her  head  suddenly  and  looked 
at  Renwick. 

"Do  you  believe  that  this  man  tells  the  truth?'* 

"I  do.  He  stands  high  among  those  of  his  profes- 
sion." 

"Do  you  believe  that  agents  of  the  German  govern- 
ment were  trying  to  take  me  prisoner — and  you?" 

"Herr  Windt  is  surprisingly  well  informed.  I  am 
quite  sure  that  someone  is  trying  to  shoot  me,"  he 
laughed.  "I  believe  that  you  were  followed — by  whom 
I  don't  know." 

"Then  how  do  you  explain  the  efforts  of  German 
agents  to  take  me,  when  I  am  acting  in  the  interests 
of  the  Kaiser's  friend  and  ally,  the  Archduke  Franz?" 

"You  forget  that  this  plot  is  a  secret  one.  The 
Archduke  may  fear  the  Serbians  and  the  Bosnians,  not 
his  own  countrymen." 

"Oh !  Yes — of  course."  She  was  silent  again,  but 
moved  her  hands  nervously  along  the  table  top  and  in  a 
moment  got  up  and  peered  through  the  window-blind. 

"I  beg  that  you  will  submit  yourself  to  Herr  Windt 

if  not   to  me "   pleaded   Renwick  earnestly.     "At 

least  in  his  company  you  will  be  in  no  danger.  I  have 
done  what  I  can  to  help  you  reach  the  Duchess,  because 
the  secret  we  shared  brought  about  this  calamity.  But 
the  matter  has  been  taken  out  of  my  hands  and  yours. 
I  advise  you  to  return  this  afternoon  to  Vienna." 

She  did  not  reply  and  only  stood  by  the  window, 
tapping  at  the  sash  with  unquiet  fingers. 

"You  are  tired,"  he  said  gently.  "Lie  down  on  this 
bed  for  awhile  and  I  will  see  what  can  be  done  about 
breakfast." 

"I'm  not  hungry." 

74 


HERB  WINDT 


"You  can't  go  without  food." 

"I'm  not  hungry,"  she  repeated. 

Renwick  shrugged  and  walked  to  the  other  window, 
where  he  presently  observed  Herr  Windt  coming  around 
the  corner  of  the  building.  That  remarkable  person  had 
thought  of  everything,  for  he  carried  in  his  hands  a 
coffeepot  and  cups,  while  another  man  followed  with 
plates  and  a  saucepan. 

He  turned  the  key  in  the  lock  and  entered,  putting 
the  coffee  upon  the  table  and  rubbing  his  hands  with  a 
more  than  usual  gusto. 

"I  am  delighted  to  be  able  to  inform  you  that  the 
occasion  for  your  detention  has  passed.  Within  cer- 
tain bounds  you  are  now  at  liberty.  The  train  of 
the  Archduke  has  just  passed  down  the  valley." 

"Oh !"  gasped  Marishka. 

"I  would  advise  you,  however,  to  keep  within  call. 
If  Herr  Renwick  will  give  me  his  word  of  honor  not 
to  try  to  escape " 

"I  don't  quite  know  where  I  should  go " 

"Very  good.  The  wires,  of  course,  Herr  Renwick, 
are  in  the  hands  of  Austrian  officials." 

Renwick  nodded. 

"You  have  won,  Herr  Windt.  I  have  no  plans  which 
conflict  with  yours."  He  turned  a  glance  toward 
Marishka.  "Countess  Strahni  is  very  tired.  I  think  if 
we  were  to  leave  her  for  a  few  hours,  she  would  prob- 
ably eat  and  rest " 

"By  all  means,"  said  Windt  with  alacrity,  moving 
toward  the  door.  "And  if  Herr  Renwick  will  follow 
me  I  think  I  can  find  another  coffeepot." 

Marishka  did  not  turn  from  the  window  as  they  went 
out  of  the  door.  Her  heart  was  heavy  within  her,  and 

75 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

through  the  glaring  summer  sunlight  which  came  in  at 
the  window  and  beat  upon  her  face,  she  saw — Sarajevo ! 
Sophie  Chotek  alighting  from  her  train,  the  pomp  and 
circumstance,  the  glitter  of  uniforms,  the  crowded 
streets  through  which  she  must  pass  and  the  crowd 
which  seethed  with  unrest,  along  the  street  through 
which  Sophie  Chotek  must  pass  .  .  .  !  It  was  too 
horrible.  She  wanted  to  shriek — to  cry  out  against  the 
infamy  that  was  to  be  done,  but  she  could  only  close 
her  eyes  to  try  and  shut  the  vision  out. 

After  awhile  she  grew  calmer,  and  tried  to  think 
clearly.  There  was  a  pitcher  and  basin  in  the  corner 
of  the  room,  and  so  she  bathed  her  face  and  hands  and 
refreshed  herself.  The  coffee  still  steamed  upon  the 
table.  There  was  rye  bread,  and  there  were  eggs  in 
the  water  of  the  saucepan.  She  felt  weak  and  dispirited, 
but  it  would  not  do  to  fail  for  lack  of  strength,  and 
so  she  sat  and  ate  and  drank.  The  plan  born  of  her 
talk  with  Hugh  Renwick  still  turned  over  and  over 
in  her  mind.  Would  Renwick  still  be  able  to  do  some- 
thing to  help  her?  Which  way  should  she  turn?  If 
her  own  efforts  to  warn  Sophie  Chotek  had  been  futile, 
if  Hugh  Renwick  could  not  do  something,  and  Eng- 
land selfishly  held  aloof  while  this  horrible  conspiracy 
which  seemed  to  have  its  very  tendrils  hidden  in  the 
hearts  of  those  who  should  have  been  her  friends,  was 
under  way,  what  must  she  do?  She  felt  dreadfully 
alone,  and  fearfully  guilty.  Her  own  death  or  the 
threatened  imprisonment  of  which  Herr  Windt  spoke 
seemed  slight  atonements  for  the  wrong  that  she  had 
done  Sophie  Chotek.  If  she  could  still  succeed,  by  using 
the  agents  of  the  Archduke's  imperial  friend  and  ally, 
in  sending  a  warning  through  the  German  ambassador 

76 


HERE  WINDT 


at  Vienna,  to  Budapest  or  Sarajevo,  the  consequences 
to  herself  were  immaterial.  They  might  have  her  to 
do  with  as  they  chose;  for  by  this  sacrifice  only  could 
she  atone.  She  did  not  fear  death,  for  death  to  youth 
and  health  is  inconceivable.  She  smiled  incredulously 
as  she  thought  again  of  the  ominous  surmises  of  the  im- 
possible Herr  Windt.  There  was  something  of  the 
opera  bouffe  about  his  methods  which  abstracted  from 
the  brilliancy  of  his  success.  To  Marishka  he  was  still 
the  head  waiter.  This  was  the  twentieth  century.  No 
political  secret  could  justify  the  imprisonment  or  death 
of  a  woman!  .  .  .  She  shuddered  a  little,  as  she 
thought  of  the  very  death  that  had  been  planned  by  the 
employers  of  Herr  Windt — Austrians — loyal  Austrians 
he  called  them,  of  the  same  blood  and  lineage  perhaps 
as  herself.  She  had  not  yet  succeeded  in  wholly  be- 
lieving it.  There  was  some  missing  reason  for  the 
actions  of  this  secret  service  agent,  some  motive  which 
neither  she  nor  Hugh  Renwick  had  yet  fathomed,  which 
would  explain  her  detention  and  his.  It  was  unbeliev- 
able that 

Marishka  started  at  a  small  sound  from  the  direc- 
tion of  the  fireplace.  It  was  a  curious  sound,  a  subdued 
metallic  clink  which  nevertheless  differentiated  itself 
with  startling  clearness  from  among  the  already 
familiar  sounds  of  the  quiet  summer  morning.  She 
started  up  and  peered  into  the  shadows  of  the  hearth. 
There  was  something  there,  a  small  object — round, 
wrapped  in  paper.  She  reached  forward  quickly, 
picked  it  up  and  examined  it  curiously  then  took  off 
its  covering,  disclosing  an  Austrian  coin — a  kroner — 
nothing  more.  It  was  most  mysterious.  The  thing 
could  obviously  have  not  come  from  the  sky.  Who? 

77 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

She  examined  the  paper  closely.  It  seemed  like  a  leaf 
torn  from  a  note  book.  There  was  writing  on  it,  and 
moving  to  the  window  she  made  out  the  script  without 
difficulty.  It  was  written  in  evident  haste  with  a  blunt 
pencil. 

I  have  found  a  way  to  escape  in  a  machine  from  Herr 
Wendt,  if  you  will  come  at  once.  Only  one  man  watches 
the  cabin  by  the  door.  There  is  another  in  the  orchard.  Go 
quietly  out  by  the  window  and  follow  the  hedge  to  the  gar- 
den wall.  I  will  be  at  the  gate  beyond  the  arbor.  Destroy 
this  note. 

HUGH  RENWICK. 

Marishka  read  the  note  twice  to  be  sure  that  there 
was  no  mistake.  She  quickly  peered  through  the  win- 
dow by  the  door.  Yes,  the  man  was  there,  smoking 
his  pipe  in  the  sunshine,  his  back  against  a  tree,  doz- 
ing. Anything  were  better  than  this  interminable  sus- 
pense— this  horrible  oppression  of  acknowledged  fail- 
ure. To  be  under  further  obligations  to  Herr  Renwick 
was  an  added  bitterness  to  her  wounded  pride,  but  hope 
had  already  beggared  her  and  she  could  not  choose.  She 
got  into  coat  and  hat,  and  after  another  careful 
scrutiny  of  her  somnolent  guardian,  quietly  opened  the 
shutters  of  the  side  window,  stepped  out  into  the  shadow 
of  the  hedge,  and  made  her  way  toward  the  distant  gar- 
den wall. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  GREEN  LIMOUSINE 

HERR  WINDT  started  up  from  the  bench  on 
which  he  had  thrown  himself.  It  was 
a  pity  there  was  no  earlier  train  for  Vienna. 
He  stretched  himself  and  yawned,  for  he  confessed 
himself  a  trifle  disappointed  that  there  was  to  be, 
after  all,  no  test  of  wits  between  himself  and  the 
agent  of  the  Wilhelmstrasse  who  had  followed  the 
Countess  Strahni  to  the  Nordwest  station  in  Vienna. 
His  men  had  done  the  fellow  in  the  motor  cap  no  great 
damage,  for  his  own  instructions  had  been  limited  but 
definite:  to  save  Marishka  Strahni  in  all  secrecy  from 
coming  to  harm,  but  to  prevent  her  at  all  hazards  from 
reaching  Konopisht  before  th6  Archduke  and  Duchess 
left  for  Sarajevo.  This  simple  task  had  been  accom- 
plished with  little  difficulty.  The  agent  of  the  Wilhelm- 
strasse, undoubtedly  a  person  of  small  caliber,  had 
given  up  his  efforts,  or  would  seek  a  more  propitious 
moment,  to  carry  it  out  later  in  Vienna.  Herr  Windt 
yawned  again.  His  visit  to  Bohemia  would  have  been 
indeed  a  delight  if  a  secret  agent  of  the  caliber  of  Herr 
Hauptman  Leo  Goritz,  or  Ober  Lieutenant  Franz 
Scheib,  could  have  been  sent  upon  this  delicate  mission 
to  oppose  him.  But  there  was  no  such  luck.  Herr 
Windt  had  made  a  careful  round  of  village  and  garden 

79 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

while  Herr  Renwick  remained  under  the  eye  of  his  men, 
and  there  had  been  no  sign  of  anything  suspicious  to 
disturb  the  monotonous  peacefulness  of  the  quiet  gar- 
den. The  reaction  which  always  followed  upon  success, 
had  set  in,  and  the  famous  man  was  now  frankly  bored 
and  somewhat  fidgety.  He  got  up  and  paced  the  stone 
walk  a  few  times  and  then  gazed  out  to  where  his  most 
trusted  man,  Spivak,  was  dozing  in  the  sun.  Every- 
thing was  too  quiet,  too  peaceful.  The  serenity  of  the 
landscape  annoyed  him.  He  glanced  at  his  watch — still 
four  hours  of  this  infernal  quiet  before  their  train  left 
for  Vienna.  He  went  to  the  door  of  the  room  into  which 
Herr  Renwick  had  gone  to  lie  down  and  looked  in.  The 
room  was  empty.  This  was  not  surprising,  for  Herr 
Renwick  was  under  parole  and  would  have  the  free- 
dom of  the  garden  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  two 
cabins.  As  the  morning  was  hot  he  had  perhaps  gone 
out  to  enjoy  the  shade  of  the  trees.  But  Herr  Windt 
now  moved  with  alacrity  and  crossed  the  small  plot  of 
vegetable  garden  which  separated  the  two  cabins,  and 
in  some  haste  turned  the  corner  of  the  small  building 
which  sheltered  the  Countess  Strahni. 

Before  the  door,  listening,  a  puzzled  look  upon  his 
face  was  Herr  Renwick. 

"I  have  called  her  three  times,"  said  the  Englishman 
quickly.  "She  sleeps  very  soundly — or  else ' 

But  Herr  Windt  did  not  stand  upon  ceremony,  for  he 
thrust  past  the  Englishman,  threw  open  the  inner  door, 
then  returned  bellowing  lustily. 

"Gone !    The  room  is  empty " 

"Gone!"  cried  Renwick. 

Windt  eyed  him  keenly. 

"I  have  been  yonder,  by  the  trees,  near  your 

80 


THE  GREEN  LIMOUSINE 

man "  protested  Renwick  and  there  seemed  no 

doubt  as  to  his  innocence. 

"Hi !  Spivak !  Linder !  Hadwiger !"  cried  Windt.  And 
as  the  men  came  running  from  all  directions,  "She  is 
gone.  What  have  you  been  at?" 

"Gone?" 

"By  the  window,  idiots;  did  none  of  you  see  her?" 

"No,  Herr  Windt " 

"But  she  could  not  have  flown  up  the  chim- 
ney  "  I] 

He  halted  abruptly,  then  dashed  into  the  room  again, 
peering  into  the  fire  place  and  examining  the  furni- 
ture, all  his  professional  instincts  keenly  aroused.  As 
he  shook  the  bed  clothing,  there  was  a  tinkle  upon  the 
floor,  and  a  coin  rolled  into  the  farthest  corner  of 
the  room.  This  he  pounced  upon  like  a  dog  upon 
a  rat  and  brought  it  forth  into  the  light  of  the  win- 
dow. 

"A  kroner !"  he  muttered.  "Curious !  Could  she  have 
dropped  it  do  you  suppose?" 

"Perhaps.  Her  money  was  in  a  handbag,"  cried 
Renwick  with  his  legs  out  of  the  window.  He  had  al- 
ready espied  a  possible  mode  of  escape,  and  started 
running  along  in  the  shadow  of  the  hedge. 

"Your  parole,  Herr  Renwick!"  shouted  Windt, 
scrambling  after  him. 

"Come  on  then,"  cried  the  Englishman  over  his  shoul- 
der while  the  Austrian  followed  swiftly  shouting  orders 
to  his  assistants.  "Follow  me,  Spivak!  The  Park 
gates,  Hadwiger!  Let  no  vehicle  get  out!  Linder, 
notify  Lengelbach — the  telegraph!" 

Renwick  went  fast  but  Herr  Windt  and  the  puffing 
Spivak  kept  at  his  heels  as  they  reached  the  garden, 

81 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

crossing  it  at  full  speed  toward  the  arbor,  whither 
Renwick  led  them  as  though  by  an  inspiration,  through 
the  bushes  and  toward  the  small  gate  beyond,  which 
led  to  the  door  in  the  wall,  over  which  a  week  ago  he 
had  climbed  in  his  hurried  flight  with  Marishka  to 
Vienna. 

Renwick  was  thinking  rapidly.  Had  Marishka 
escaped  alone — perhaps  devised  a  plan  of  her  own  to 
reach  Vienna  from  Budweis  in  time  to  come  up  with 

the  party  of  the  Archduke?     Or  had  someone He 

doubled  his  pace,  cursing  his  throbbing  head  and  his 
own  simplicity  and  impotence.  A  trap? 

"There  is  a  door?"  stammered  Windt. 

"In  the  bushes  just  beyond — a  private  one — usually 
locked " 

"Spivak!     You  hear?" 

"I  could  not  know "  panted  the  other. 

You  should  have  known " 

They  reached  the  small  flight  of  steps  that  led  down, 
and  dashed  along  the  path  among  the  bushes  toward 
an  open  gate,  emerging  upon  the  road  which  marked 
the  beginnings  of  the  village  street.  There  were  a  few 
people  in  sight,  an  old  man  hobbling  upon  a  stick,  a 
child  with  a  dog,  two  peasants  in  the  shade  of  a  tree 
eating  their  midday  meal — and  down  the  road  to  the 
west — a  cloud  of  dust! 

The  peasants  rose  in  alarm  at  the  rapid  approach 
of  the  three  excited  men,  and  turned  as  though  to  flee 
into  the  safety  of  the  adjoining  field,  but  Renwick 
overtook  them. 

"You  saw  a  lady  come  out  of  the  gate  yonder?"  he 
questioned. 

"A  lady,  Excellency?" 

82 


THE  GREEN  LIMOUSINE 

"Yes,  yes.     A  lady  and  perhaps  a  gentlemen." 

"We  are  merely  eating  our  dinner,  Excellency.  We 
— we  have  no  wish  to  do  harm  to  anyone." 

"Idiots !"  cried  Windt.  "A  motor-car?  An  automo- 
bile? Did  you  see  it?  Answer — or " 

"A  motor-car — Excellency?"  the  fellow  stammered. 
"Yes — a  motor-car." 

"How  long  since?"  snapped  Windt. 

"A  moment  only-^-it  was  here — just  here — and  now 
It  is  gone " 

"Where?" 

"Y-yonder "  and  he  pointed  down  the  road. 

The  three  men  exchanged  frowning  glances,  but  Herr 
Windt's  were  the  most  terrible  of  the  three. 

"You  saw?    Speak — What  color  was  this  car?" 

"H — how  should  I  know,  Excellency?  I  was  peace- 
fully eating  mj  dinner.  See!  It  is  but  half 
finished " 

"You  will  never  eat  what  remains  unless  jou  speak 
the  truth "  he  roared. 

"I — I  am  speaking  the  truth " 

"What  color  had  this  car? 

"I  don't  understand " 

"Its  color,  man — the  paint?" 

"Oh!    The  paint " 

"Speak !     Blockhead " 

"Excellency,  I  think "  he  stammered  in  terror, 

"I  think " 


"What— quickly " 

"I  think,  Excellency,  that  it  was  green." 

Renwick  gasped.     The  face  of  Herr  Windt  wore  a 

blank  look  as  though  he  had  suddenly  received  a  glacial 

douche. 

83 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"Herr  Gott!"  he  muttered,  wiping  the  sweat  from  his 
brow  with  an  eloquent  forefinger. 

"The  green  limousine!"  muttered  Renwick. 

For  a  moment  all  three  men  stood  helplessly  star- 
ing down  the  road  toward  the  west,  where  the  dustcloud 
was  slowly  settling  on  leaf  and  hedgerow,  but  there  was 
a  turn  in  the  road  which  hid  all  objects  beyond.  Herr 
Windt  was  the  first  to  recover  his  initiative. 

"Clever !"  he  muttered.  "A  message !  Linder  should 

have  observed But  they  will  not  get  far. 

Come "  And  he  led  the  way  at  a  quick  trot  in  the 

direction  of  the  village,  where  they  reached  the  tele- 
graph office  at  the  railway  station. 

While  Herr  Windt  went  inside  to  give  his  orders, 
Renwick  sank  upon  a  bench  outside  and  tried  to  think 
of  what  had  happened  and  what  it  might  mean  to 
Marishka  and  to  him.  The  green  limousine — a  German 
secret  agent — there  could  be  no  doubt,  and  he,  Ren- 
wick, already  warned  of  this  possible  danger  to 
Marishka  had  permitted  her  to  fall  into  this  trap,  while 
he  had  come  off  unscathed.  His  conscience  assailed 
him  bitterly.  Trusting  to  the  efficiency  of  Herr  Windt'S 
men  he  had  slept — slept  while  Marishka  was  being  car- 
ried off  to  danger — to  imprisonment — or  perhaps — he 
did  not  dare  to  think  of  anything  worse.  And  Marishka 
must  have  connived  at  the  plan  for  her  escape!  How 
had  the  message  passed?  And  what  was  the  lure? 

As  the  new  idea  came  to  him  he  rose  quickly  and 
moved  toward  the  door  of  the  telegraph  office.  He 
paused  for  a  moment  to  adjust  his  monocle  and  it  was 
fortunate  that  he  did  so,  for  there  was  a  crash  of  glass 
at  the  window  just  by  his  head,  followed  by  a  cry 
of  alarm  within  the  room.  Renwick  dodged  behind  a 

84 


THE  GREEN  LIMOUSINE 

projection  of  the  building,  and  peered  out  while  Windt 
and  Linder  came  rushing  from  the  office. 

"A  shot?" 

"Who?" 

"I  can't  imagine.     He  can't  have  gone  far." 

The  four  men  raced  out,  Herr  Windt  with  auto- 
matic drawn,  but  when  they  reached  the  freight  station 
which  seemed  to  be  in  the  direction  from  which  the  shot 
had  come  there  was  no  one  in  sight.  Across  the  rail- 
road was  a  patch  of  dense  woods. 

Here  Herr  Windt  paused. 

"He  was  shooting  at  you,  Herr  Renwick,"  he  said 
calmly. 

"I  haven't  a  doubt  of  it." 

"Go  forward,  Linder  and  Spivak — search  the 
woods — but  do  no  shooting  unless  attacked."  Here 
Windt  pocketed  his  weapon.  "I  regret,  Herr  Ren- 
wick,  that  my  other  business  is  of  the  utmost  impor- 
tance. You  will  come  with  me  to  the  telegraph  office, 
please." 

Renwick  obeyed  rather  willingly.  He  was  unarmed 
and  saw  no  possible  utility  to  his  own  cause  or 
Marishka's  in  dodging  around  in  woods  which  contained 
a  person  bent  upon  assassinating  him. 

"You  see,  Herr  Renwick,  the  matter  is  not  ended." 

"I'm  much  more  comfortable  that  it  is  not,"  re- 
plied Renwick  grimly.  "He  shoots  well." 

"You  must  be  careful,"  said  his  companion  casually. 
"Come  inside.  Hadwiger  will  watch."  And  he  calmly 
took  up  his  interrupted  duty  with  the  telegraph  officer, 
with  an  air  of  impassivity,  which  of  course,  was  part 
of  his  professional  mien,  but  Renwick  somehow  gained 
the  idea  that  his  own  death  whether  by  shooting,  poison, 

85 


or  other  sudden  device  was  a  matter  with  which  Herr 
Windt  could  have  the  least  possible  concern.  Renwick 
sank  into  a  chair  and  smoked  a  pipe,  trying  to  think 
what  he  could  do,  listening  dully  meanwhile  to  the  Aus- 
trian's dictated  messages  to  the  wire,  delivered  rapidly 
and  with  a  certain  military  precision. 

"Stop  all  green  motor  cars  traveling  north  on  the 
Prague  highroad — and  all  roads  leading  north.  Re- 
port at  once  here  by  telegraph  description  of  those 
arrested.  Confirm  this  message  by  name  of  station." 
And  then  in  quicker  tones,  "Send  that  to  all  telegraph 
stations  in  this  district  north  and  west  of  here — and 
quick,  you  understand — lose  no  time.  When  that  mes- 
sage is  sent  I  will  give  you  another — for  the  Chief  of 
Police  at  Prague."  Then  turning  to  the  door  as  a  new 
thought  came  to  him  he  spoke  to  Hadwiger. 

"Go  to  the  wood  on  the  Prague  highroad  where  the 
machine  is  concealed  and  bring  it  here.  Quick.  We 
may  need  it.  You  see,  Herr  Renwick,  in  ten  minutes 
all  the  roads  into  Prague  will  be  closed  to  them.  Even 
if  they  reach  the  city  they  will  be  detained." 

Renwick  did  not  reply.  Ke  was  weighing  the  prob- 
abilities in  his  own  thorough  English  way.  His  head 
still  ached,  but  the  pipe  of  tobacco  aided  his  faculties. 
The  thought  that  persisted  in  his  mind  was  that 
Marishka  had  escaped  from  Herr  Windt  with  the  sole 
purpose  of  carrying  out  the  object  of  her  visit  to 
Konopisht.  He  remembered  the  sudden  interest  she 
had  displayed  at  the  mention  of  the  possibility  of  her 
having  been  followed  to  Konopisht  by  an  agent  of  the 
Wilhelmstrasse.  England  could  do  nothing  for  her, 
Austria  her  own  country  stood  helpless,  while  the  Mili- 
tary Party,  which  alone  possibly  had  the  power  to  help 

86 


THE  GREEN  LIMOUSINE 

her,  still  remained  in  ignorance  of  the  plot.  Germanj! 
He  remembered  the  look  that  had  come  into  her  eyes  as 
he  had  confirmed  the  opinions  of  Herr  Windt — an 
opinion  borne  out  by  the  attempts  upon  his  life  and 
her  safety  in  Vienna.  But  what  of  the  man  in  the  green 
limousine?  She  was  a  human  document,  as  Herr  Windt 
had  said,  which  was  destined  for  the  safe,  or  possibly 
for  destruction.  By  what  means  had  the  man  in  the 
green  car  lured  her  from  the  security  of  the  cabin? 
Renwick  could  not  believe,  after  all  that  he  had  done 
for  her,  that  she  would  throw  herself  into  the  hands  of 
a  stranger  on  the  barest  chance  of  success  without  at 
least  confiding  in  him.  A  shadow  had  fallen  between 
them,  a  shadow  and  an  abyss  which  had  grown  darker 
and  deeper  with  the  hours,  but  that  he  was  her  enemy — 
political,  personal — he  could  hardly  believe  she  could 
think  him  that ;  for  he  had  done  what  he  could — striven 
earnestly  to  help  her  reach  the  Duchess  in  safety.  That 
he  had  failed  was  through  no  fault  of  his  own.  He 
could  not  understand  her  flight — not  from  Windt,  but 
from  him- — without  a  word  or  a  sign.  It  was  not  like 
her — not  even  like  the  Marishka  who  had  chosen  to 
call  him  dishonorable.  However  much  she  could  re- 
pudiate his  political  actions,  there  still  remained  be- 
tween them  the  ties  of  social  consanguinity,  the  memory 
of  things  which  might  have  been,  that  no  wounded  pride 
could  ever  quite  destroy.  But  to  repudiate  him  with- 
out a  word — that  was  not  like  Marishka — not  even  the 
Marishka  of  today  and  yesterday.  And  while  he  tried 
to  solve  the  problem  in  his  own  way,  the  telegraph 
instrument  ticked  busily  on.  Herr  Windt  leaned  over 
the  desk  reading  the  messages,  repeating  the  names  of 
the  towns  which  replied. 

87 


THjE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"Beneschau — Pribram — Wrshowitz — that  district  is 
covered,  Lengelbach  ?" 

"Yes.     Ah,  here  is  something." 

Windt  bent  forward  again  repeating  the  message 
aloud. 

"From  Beraun — Franz — Schweppenheiser — and — 
a  —  woman  —  says  —  she  —  is  —  his  —  wife.  Small 

—  four  —  cylinder  —  car  —  American  —  make  — 
black  —  in  —  color  —  with  —  brass  —  band  —  on  • — • 
hood.    Both  —  man  —  and  —  woman  —  have  —  grey 

—  hair  —  age  —  seventy-two  —  and  '!      Herr 

Windt   broke   off   with   an   oath,    "Schaf  shop  fen!"   he 

cried.     "Enough  of  that "    And  paced  the  floor  of 

the  room  before  Renwick,  glaring  impatiently  out  of 
the  window. 

"Another,"  said  Lengelbach,  "from  Bresnitz.     Man 

—  and  —  girl  • —  much  frightened " 

"Ah!" 

"Say  —  they  —  are  —  running  —  away  —  to  —  be 
— married." 

"Yes — the  description " 

"Man  —  dark  —  age  —  twenty-five  —  girl  —  yel- 
low —  hair " 

"Bah !"  furiously.    "Enough— the  next." 

For  an  hour  or  more,  Renwick  sat  helplessly  and 
listened  while  the  different  towns  including  the  city  of 
Prague  responded.  There  was  no  green  limousine  in 
all  Bohemia.  At  last,  his  patience  exhausted,  he  rose 
and  knocked  his  pipe  out. 

"Herr  Windt,"  he  inquired  calmly,  "what  reason 
have  you  for  believing  that  they  will  go  to  Prague?" 

"The  roads  are  good.  The  German  border  lies  be- 
yond," said  Windt  shortly,  turning  away. 

88 


THE  GREEN  LIMOUSINE 

"Wait !"  Renwick's  hand  clutched  his  arm  firmly.  "Is 
there  a  road  running  south  and  parallel  to  the  high- 
road?" 

Windt  regarded  him  in  silence  for  a  moment  and 
then — 

"Yes,  many — but  most  of  them  mere  cow  paths." 

"An  automobile  could  pass  over  them,  Herr  Lengel- 
bach?" 

"Yes,  the  roads  to  Brunn  are  not  bad,"  said  the 
man. 

Renwick  smiled  grimly.  "It  is  my  belief,  Herr  Windt, 
that  they  have  slipped  through  your  fingers." 

"No." 

"You  have  exhausted  almost  every  means " 

"There  are  other  stations " 

"I  would  suggest  that  you  try  the  country  to  the 
southward." 

"Why?" 

"Because  that  is  the  way  that  they  have  gone " 

"Impossible!" 

"I  think  you  forget  the  Countess  Strahni's  mission — • 
and  yours." 

"She  will  not  succeed." 

His  stubbornness  angered  Renwick,  and  he  caught 
him  by  the  arm  again,  and  whispered  a  few  words  in 
his  ear. 

Herr  Windt  turned  a  startled  glance  at  the  English- 
man. His  mind  had  been  bent  upon  mere  machin- 
ery. When  he  spoke  there  was  in  his  voice  a  note  of 
respect. 

"Ah — it  is  worth  considering.  But  how?  The  tele- 
graph wires  are  now  in  my  possession — here  in  this 

district  to  Budweis — to  Vienna " 

89 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"Then  why  don't  you  use  them?"  asked  Renwick 
bluntly. 

Windt  stood  stock  still  a  moment  and  then  went 
quickly  to  the  desk. 

"Repeat  that  message  to  Budweis,  to  Gmund,  to 
Altensteig  and  Absdorf.  Also  cover  the  Brunn  road. 
It  can  do  no  harm,"  he  said  turning  urbanely  to  Ren- 
wick. 

"Perhaps  not,"  said  Renwick  dryly,  "if  the  harm  is 
not  already  done." 

Together  they  listened  to  the  clicking  of  the  tele- 
graph instrument.  Half  an  hour  passed.  Hadwiger 
returned  with  the  machine.  Spivak  and  Linder  came 
in  from  their  fruitless  search  of  the  woods.  The  sus- 
pense was  unendurable.  Renwick,  forgetting  his  dan- 
ger, paced  the  road  outside  until  a  cry  from  Windt 
brought  him  into  the  office.  The  others  were  lean- 
ing over  the  instrument  while  Windt  spelled  out  the 
words,  "I-g-1-a-u  t-w-o  s-e-v-e-n-t-e-e-n  G-e-r-m-a-n 
o-f-f-i-c-e-r  a-n-d  w-i-f-e.  G-r-e-e-n  1-i-m-o-u-s-i-n-e 
p-a-s-s-e-d  h-e-r-e  t-e-n  m-i-n-u-t-e-s  a-g-o  f-o-r 
V-i-e-n-n-a." 

"Kollosaler  Halurike!"  thundered  Windt,  his  urbah- 
ity  shattered  to  shreds.  "They  have  taken  the  other 
road.  Here,  Lengelbach,  take  this  quick.  "Hold  green 
motor-car  man  and  woman."  Send  that  to  every  tele- 
' graph  station  between  Brunn  and  Danube.  Relay  aK 
messages  to  Budweis.  I'm  going  there." 

And  turning  quickly  he  went  toward  the  automobile, 
with  a  sign  to  the  others  to  follow.  Very  politely  he 
stood  aside  while  Renwick  entered,  and  with  one  of 
the  men  climbed  into  the  rear  seat  while  the  other  two 
got  in  front,  Hadwiger  driving  at  a  furious  pace.  For 

90 


THE  GREEN  LIMOUSINE 

a  long  time  they  went  in  silence,  Herr  Windt  sitting 
with  folded  arms,  his  brows  tangled  in  thought.  To 
acknowledge  that  he  had  been  outwitted  had  been  gall- 
ing, but  to  let  this  English  creature  of  pipe  and  monocle 
indicate,  in  the  presence  of  his  own  underlings,  the 
precise  means  of  his  discomfiture  was  bitter  indeed. 
At  last  his  lips  mumbled  vaguely. 

"Still  I  do  not  understand,"  they  said. 

"A  note  wrapped  around  the  coin,"  suggested  Ren- 
Trick. 

"Ach,  so.  It  is  very  probable.  The  simplest  expe- 
dients are  often  the  most  effective.  Still  it  is  remark- 
able that  they  have  slipped  through." 

"The  green  limousine  goes  to  Vienna,"  said  Renwick. 

Herr  Windt  had  self-respect  enough  for  a  rather 
cynical  smile. 

"And  after  Vienna?"  he  asked. 

Renwick  shrugged. 

"That  will  depend  upon  the  efficiency  of  the  Austrian 
Secret  Police." 

"Meaning,  precisely  what,  Herr  Renwick?" 

"Merely  that  the  Wilhelmstrasse  is  skillful,  Herr 
Windt,"  he  replied. 

"You  mean  that  they  will  escape — here  in  Austria! 
Impossible !" 

"You  will  need  all  your  wits,"  said  Renwick  dryly. 

The  truth  of  the  remark  was  soon  apparent  for 
when  Herr  Windt's  party  reached  the  telegraph  station 
at  Budweis,  there  were  no  reassuring  messages.  The 
green  limousine  had  vanished  into  the  earth. 


IN  her  flight  from  the  cabin  in  the  Archduke's  woods, 
the  Countess  Strahni  crept  along  in  the  shadow 
of  the  hedge  which  bordered  the  orchard,  and 
reached  the  gate  of  the  garden.  She  had  seen  the 
watcher  in  the  orchard  pacing  to  and  fro,  and,  awaiting 
the  moment  when  his  back  should  be  turned,  she  hur- 
ried swiftly  on  to  the  shelter  of  the  garden  wall,  once 
within  which,  she  thought  that  she  would  be  safe  from 
detection  by  the  men  of  Herr  Windt.  She  waited  for  a 
moment  at  the  gate  to  be  sure  that  the  man  near  the 
cabin  had  not  observed  her,  and  noted,  through  the  fo- 
liage, that  he  had  not  moved.  Then  summoning  her 
courage,  she  crossed  the  garden  boldly  in  the  direction 
of  the  arbor — the  fateful  arbor  of  Austria's  betrayal — 
and  her  own.  In  the  path  beyond  it  Hugh  Renwick 
would  be  awaiting  her — Renwick,  the  imperturbable, 
the  persistent,  the — the  despicable.  Yes,  she  was  quite 
sure  that  she  despised  him,  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts 
in  her  behalf,  so  the  thought  that  she  was  once  more  to 
be  beholden  to  him  in  this  hapless  quest  gave  her  a  long 
moment  of  uncertainty  as  she  reached  the  arbor.  She 
paused  within  the  structure,  wondering  whether,  now 
that  she  had  succeeded  in  eluding  Herr  Windt,  it  would 
not  be  better  to  flee  into  the  castle,  and  enlist  the  aid 

92 


AN  ESCAPE  2ND  A  CAPTURE 

of  the  servants  in  behalf  of  their  master  and  mistress. 
She  had  even  taken  a  few  steps  toward  the  tennis  court, 
when  she  remembered — the  telegraph  in  the  hands  of 
Austrian  officials  who  had  their  instructions!  That 
way  was  hopeless.  The  Archduke's  chamberlain  had, 
of  course,  gone  south,  and  in  the  castle,  beside  the 
house-servants,  there  would  have  remained  only  the 
English  governess,  the  children,  and  the  housekeeper. 
There  could  be  little  help  expected  from  them — only  be- 
wilderment, horror,  or  perhaps  incredulity.  She  must 
go  on  to  Herr  Renwick,  continue  the  impossible  situa- 
tion between  them,  hide  her  exasperation  in  a  studied 
politeness,  and  trust  implicitly,  as  she  had  done  be- 
fore, to  his  undoubted  desire  to  retrieve  his  lost  stand- 
ing- 
She  turned  into  the  path  which  led  from  the  arbor, 

and  hurried  through  into  the  narrow  path  which  led 
to  the  hidden  gate  beyond.  Just  here  where  the  foliage 
was  thickest,  and  not  twenty  yards  from  the  spot 
where  she  and  Hugh  Renwick  had  listened  to  the  pact  of 
Konopisht,  a  figure  stood  bowing.  She  had  been  so 
intent  upon  seeing  the  Englishman  that  it  was  a  full 
moment  before  she  recovered  from  the  shock  of  her  sur- 
prise. The  man  before  her  was  tall,  with  good  shoul- 
ders, and  wore  a  brown  Norfolk  jacket  and  a  soft  hat. 
His  eyes  were  dark  and  as  he  smiled  they  wrinkled  very 
pleasantly  at  the  corners. 

Marishka  halted  and  stared  at  him  uncertainly. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said.  "I  came  here  to 
meet "  She  paused,  for  the  thought  suddenly  en- 
tered her  head  that  this  perhaps  might  be  another  of 
the  men  sent  to  detain  her.  But  in  a  moment  she  real- 
ized her  mistake.  The  air  with  which  the  man  swept 

93 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

off  his  hat  and  bowed  convinced  her  that  he  was  a 
gentleman  and  his  manner  put  her  at  once  at  her 
ease. 

"Herr  Renwick,"  he  said,  with  a  smile,  "has  gone 
on  to  make  some  arrangements  for  your  comfort.  He 
has  asked  me  to  conduct  you  to  the  automobile,  and 
vrill  join  us  beyond  the  village." 

An  automobile!  There  would  still  be  time,  perhaps, 
to  reach  Vienna  before  the  archducal  partj  should 
leave  for  Bosnia. 

"Oh,  of  course,"  gasped  Marishka  thankfully. 

"If  you  will  come  this  way,  Countess "  he  said, 

with  something  of  an  air.  He  bowed,  but  kept  his  gaze 
fixed  upon  hers.  There  was  something  very  remarkable 
about  this  man's  eyes — she  could  not  tell  just  what  it 
was — but  they  held  her  for  a  second,  held  her  motion- 
less until  the  hand  which  held  his  hat  gestured  for  her 
to  pass  on.  She  took  the  walk  before  him,  descended 
the  steps  which  led  to  the  lower  path  where  he  hurried 
forward  and  opened  the  door  in  the  wall. 

Even  now,  no  notion  entered  her  head  that  this  polite 
person  was  other  than  he  represented  himself  to  be. 
And  the  well  equipped  machine  which  stood  in  the  road 
outside  the  wall  only  caused  her  a  momentary  thrill 
of  joy  at  the  opportunity  which  placed  the  means  of 
their  escape  so  readily  at  the  hand  of  the  now  really 
admirable  Herr  Renwick.  As  she  paused  again  for  a 
moment,  her  companion  threw  open  the  door  of  the 
limousine,  and  lightly  touched  her  elbow. 

"If  the  Countess  Strahni  will  enter "  he  said 

quietly.  "There  is  little  time  to  lose." 

Marishka  obeyed  and  in  a  moment  the  man  in  the 
Norfolk  jacket  was  seated  beside  her,  the  chauffeur  had 

94 


AN  ESCAPE  AND  A  CAPTURE 

thrown  in  the  gears,  and  the  machine  was  moving  swiftly 
upon  its  way.  She  sank  back  into  the  comfortable 
cushions  with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction  which  did  not 
escape  her  companion. 

"It  was  fortunate  that  I  should  have  been  in  this 
neighborhood,"  he  said  with  a  strange  smile.  It  was  not 
until  then  that  she  noticed  the  slightly  thick  accents 
with  which  he  spoke  and  she  glanced  at  his  profile  hur- 
riedly. His  nose  was  aquiline  and  well  cut,  but  the 
suggestion  of  his  nationality  was  elusive.  In  spite  of 
his  evident  gentility,  his  good  looks,  his  courtesy  and 
his  friendship  with  Hugh  Renwick,  Marishka  now  had 
her  first  belated  instinct  that  all  was  not  as  it  should 
be.  The  man  beside  her  looked  past  the  chauffeur  down 
the  road  ahead,  turning  one  or  two  glances  over  his 
shoulder  into  the  cloud  of  dust  behind  them.  She  no- 
ticed now  that  the  car  had  not  gone  in  the  direction  of 
the  village,  but  had  reached  the  country  road  which  led 
to  the  west  and  was  moving  at  a  high  speed  which  seemed 
to  take  the  waiting  Renwick  little  into  consideration. 
All  the  windows  of  the  car  were  closed,  and  she  had  a 
sense  of  being  restrained — suffocated.  For  a  while 
she  did  not  dare  to  give  her  thoughts  utterance,  but 
as  the  car  reached  the  Prague  highroad  and  turned  to 
the  right,  she  started  and  turned  in  alarm  to  the  man 
beside  her. 

"You  told  me  that  Herr  Renwick  was  waiting  for 
us  just  beyond  the  village.  Where  is ?" 

The  question  trembled  and  died  on  her  lips  for  the 
eyes  of  the  man  beside  her  answered  before  it  was 
asked. 

"I  regret,"  he  said  evenly,  "that  there  is  no  time  to* 
wait  for  Herr  Renwick." 

95 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"You — you  have "  she  stammered  helplessly. 

"I  beg  that  the  Countess  Strahni  will  not  be  unduly 
disturbed." 

"Where  are  we  going?  This  is  the  road  to  Prague. 
Tell  me  where  you  are  taking  me.  I  insist " 

He  smiled  at  her  again,  but  did  not  reply. 

Marishka  was  now  really  alarmed  and  looked  out 
of  the  closed  windows  at  the  flying  hedgerows  in  des- 
peration, wondering  what  she  must  do  and  trying  to 
think  how  this  dreadful  mishap  had  befallen  her.  Hugh 
Renwick — his  note  to  her — this  stranger  with  the  re- 
markable eyes  who  always  smiled !  Where  was  the  miss- 
ing link — what  the  deduction?  But  it  was  no  time  in 
which  to  lose  one's  courage.  She  turned  toward  the 
man  beside  her  who  was  regarding  her  calmly. 

"Who  are  you?"  she  asked. 

His  eyes  narrowed  slightly  as  he  looked  past  her  out 
of  the  window.  Then  he  said  politely : 

"The  Countess  Strahni  is  well  within  her  rights  in 
asking  that  question.  I  am  Captain  Leo  Goritz." 

That  meant  nothing  to  her  and  she  found  herself  re- 
peating her  question. 

He  deliberated  a  moment. 

"I  see  no  reason  why  I  should  not  tell  you,"  he  said 
at  last.  "I  do  not  desire  a  misconception  of  my  per- 
sonal motives — which  I  beg  you  to  understand  are  of 
the  highest.  I  am  merely  carrying  out  my  orders  to 
bring  the  Countess  Strahni  with  all  dispatch  within 
the  borders  of  the  German  Empire." 

"You — you  are "  she  paused  in  dismay. 

"Of  the  German  Imperial  Secret  Service,"  he  said 
quickly. 

Marishka  sank  back  into  her  seat  breathless  with  ap- 

96 


"AN  ESCAPE  AND  A  CAPTURE 

prehension,  the  warnings  of  the  hated  Herr  Windt  din- 
ning in  her  ears. 

"Then  you  sent "  She  fingered  the  scribbled 

note  which  had  not  left  her  fingers. 

"I  regret,  Countess,  that  the  situation  made  decep- 
tion necessary.  One  of  my  men  in  the  tree  above  the 
chimney.  My  orders  were  urgent." 

Marishka  glanced  about  the  machine  helplessly,  her 
thoughts,  in  spite  of  herself,  recurring  to  Hugh  Ren- 
wick,  who  must  before  long  discover  her  absence  and 
guess  its  cause.  But  there  seemed  no  chance  of  escape. 
To  open  the  door  and  leap  forth  into  the  road  at  this 
speed  was  only  courting  injury,  and  the  calm  appear- 
ance of  Captain  Leo  Goritz  seemed  only  the  mask  for  a 
resoluteness  of  purpose  with  which  she  could  not  dare 
to  cope.  To  cry  out  seemed  equally  futile  for  the  road 
was  deserted  except  for  a  few  market  wagons,  the  oc- 
cupants of  which  were  country  louts  who  only  stared 
dully  as  they  passed.  But  in  a  flash  the  inspiration 
came  to  her.  Germany !  Germany  could  help  her  carry 
out  her  purpose  to  warn  the  Duchess  before  she  reached 
Sarajevo.  She  glanced  at  her  companion  and  found 
that  his  brown  eyes  had  turned  as  though  by  prescience 
to  hers. 

"Captain  Goritz,"  she  stammered,  "I — I  seem  to  be 
in  your  power.  Whatever  your  authority  for  this — this 
restraint  of  my  liberty — I  submit  myself " 

He  showed  his  fine  teeth  in  a  smile. 

"I  regret  that  the  Countess  Strahni  should  have 
been  put  to  this  inconvenience." 

She  made  a  motion  of  deprecation. 

"I  beg  that  you  will  spare  yourself  meaningless 
civilities.  I  do  not  know  the  meaning  of  this  outrage." 

97 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"The  Countess  Strahni  is  far  too  clever  to  suppose 
that  I  can  believe  her "  he  put  in  quickly. 

''What  do  you  mean?" 

"Merely  that  an  intelligence  which  can  thro\f  cen- 
tral Europe  into  a  turmoil,"  and  he  laughed  pleas- 
antly, "does  itself  and  me  too  little  credit." 

"Oh,  you  know "  she  gasped. 

"Yes,  I  know." 

She  examined  Captain  Goritz  with  &  new  inter- 
eat. 

"But  you  did  not  know  the  object  of  my  visit  to 
Konopisht,"  she  went  on  desperately. 

"I  confess,"  he  said  slowly,  "that  your  sudden  de- 
parture from  Vienna  was  most  mystifying " 

"I  will  tell  you,"  she  went  on  excitedly.  "I  came  to 
Konopisht  to  warn  the  Archduke  Franz  of  a  plot  to 
assassinate  him  when  he  reaches  Sarajevo " 

"Ah!  So  that "  Captain  Goritz  started  sud- 
denly forward  in  his  seat  and  faced  her  eagerly  in  an 
attitude  of  sudden  alertness. 

"A  plot!     Serbian?"  he  asked  sharply. 

"No — I "    Loyalty  stifled  her  lips. 

"I  see."  And  then  keenly,  "Austrian — as  a  result 
of  your,  disclosures  to  the  Emperor?" 

She  eyed  the  man  in  amazement.     He  was  omnis- 
\  cient. 

"A  plot "  she  stammered.     "I  do  not  know — I 

came  to  warn  them— the  Archduke  and  Duchess,  but  I 

was  prevented  from  doing  so.     They "  she  gasped 

again — "those  who  plan  this  dastardly  thing  are  pow- 
erful— they  control  the  telegraph.  There  was  no  way 
to  reach  them  and  so  I  came " 

"Herr  Windt ?" 

98 


She  nodded.  "You  know — he  acts  for  them.  He 
kept  me  in  the  cabin  until  it  was  too  late." 

"I  understand ."  He  nodded,  his  brows  tangled 

in  thought.  "There  can  be  no  other  explanation." 

"I  heard.  I  saw — back  there  in  the  garden — Em- 
peror and  Archduke — friends.  Oh,  don't  you  under- 
stand? He  would  do  something " 

Captain  Goritz  had  sunk  lower  into  his  seat  and  with 
folded  arms  was  gazing  at  the  back  of  the  man  in  front 
of  them,  but  under  his  frowning  brows  his  eyes  glowed 
with  initiative. 

"What  you  tell  me  is  serious,  Countess "  he  mut- 
tered. 

"So  serious  that  I  beg  you  will  listen  to  me,"  she 
went  on  almost  hysterically.  "The  Duchess  was  my 
friend — I  heard  and  I  told  what  I  heard r" 

"Yes.     It  is  a  pity,  Countess  Strahni." 

"But  I  did  not  know,"  she  went  on  breathlessly,  con- 
scious only  of  the  imminence  of  Sarajevo  and  of  the 
power  of  the  man  beside  her  perhaps  to  aid  her.  "I 
could  not  know  that  I  should  be  betraying  her — the 
friend  of  a  lifetime — to  this — I  did  my  duty  as  I  saw 
it — to  Austria.  I  am  telling  you  this — a  stranger — 
an  enemy  perhaps — because  it  is  in  your  power  to  help 
— to  prevent  this  terrible  thing.  Think!  Think!  It 
is  your  duty  as  well  as  mine — your  duty  to  the  one 
who  shares  with  Franz  Ferdinand  the  secret  of  the  rose 
garden — his  friend,  and  if  God  so  wills — his  ally.  It 
is  all  so  terrible — so  bewildering.  But  you  must 
see  that  I  am  in  earnest — that  I  am  speaking  the 
truth." 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  said  abstractedly,  nodding,  and  then 
was  silent,  while  the  machine  went  thundering  nortk- 

99 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

ward,  every  moment  taking  them  further  from  Marish- 
ka's  goal.  She  watched  his  face  anxiously  for  a  sign. 
His  eyes  glowed  somberly  but  he  did  not  move  or  glance 
aside.  His  problem,  it  appeared,  was  as  deep  as  hers. 
For  an  age,  he  sat  there  like  a  stone  figure,  but  she  had 
the  instinct  not  to  speak,  and  after  a  while  he  straight- 
ened, leaned  quickly  forward  and  threw  down  the  win- 
dow in  front  of  them. 

"What  is  the  village  before  us,  Karl?"  he  asked  in 
quick  tones. 

"Beneschau,  Herr  Hauptmann." 

"There  is  a  road  to  Brunn?" 

"Yes,  a  fair  one,  Herr  Hauptmann." 

"Take  it — and  faster." 

That  was  all.  Marishka  knew  that  she  had  won. 
Captain  Goritz  was  frowning  at  the  dial  of  his  watch, 

"Perhaps  we  are  too  late — but  we  can  at  least  try," 
he  muttered. 

"Whatever  your  mission  with  regard  to  me — that  is 
unimportant — beside  this  other  duty " 

"Yes,  yes.  We  shall  need  you.  If  you  could  reach 
the  Duchess  personally " 

"She  will  listen.     I  have  known  her  all  my  life." 

"Good.  We  must  succeed."  And  then,  figuring  to 
himself.  "Brunn — one  hundred  kilometers — Vienna 
seventy  more — five  hours — six  perhaps.  They  may  not 
leave  Vienna  at  once " 

"The  German  Ambassador "  she  suggested. 

"Of  course."  And  then,  turning  suddenly  toward 
her,  his  eyes  intent,  he  said,  with  great  seriousness: 
"Countess  Strahni,  for  the  moment  your  interests  and 
mine  are  identical.  The  success  of  this  project  depends 

upon  your  silence " 

100 


AN  ESCAPE  AND  A  CAPTURE 

"Anything !" 

"One  moment,  please,"  he  put  in  quickly.  "I  wish 
you  to  understand  the  seriousness  of  your  position. 
Your  security,  your  safety  now  and  later,  will  depend 
upon  your  own  actions.  You  have  proved  yourself 
politically  dangerous  to  the  peace — to  the  welfare  of 
Europe.  My  mission  was  to  bring  you  safely  into  Ger- 
many. Failing  in  that,  I  must  exact  absolute  silence 
and  obedience " 

"Yes " 

"You  travel  as  my  wife,  the  wife  of  a  German  officer 
going  to  Vienna  for  medical  advice " 

She  flinched  a  little,  but  his  air  of  abstraction  re- 
assured her. 

"Do  you  agree?" 

"Yes." 

"You  have  friends  in  Vienna.  You  must  not  see 
them.  Have  I  your  word?" 

"I  have  no  wish  but  to  help  you." 

He  examined  her  keenly. 

"I  regret  that  the  terms  of  our  contract  must  be 
more  explicit." 

"In  what?" 

"I  exact  your  word  of  honor  to  remain  under  my  or- 
ders, to  make  no  attempt  to  escape,  to  speak  no  word 
as  to  my  identity  or  your  own " 

"Have  I  not  told  you  that  my  own  fate  is  unim- 
portant if  I  succeed  in  reaching  the  Duchess  of  Hohen- 
burg?" 

"And  after  that?"  he  asked  keenly. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Merely  that  the  same  conditions  as  to  yourself 
shall  continue  to  exist." 

101 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

Marishka  hesitated.  What  lay  before  her?  It  was 
incredible  that  harm  could  come  to  one  of  her  condi- 
tion at  the  hands  of  the  servants  of  a  great  and  Chris- 
tian nation  like  Germany.  She  glanced  at  Captain 
Goritz.  He  was  still  examining  her  gravely,  imperson- 
ally. There  seemed  little  doubt  as  to  the  genuineness 
of  his  intentions. 

"And  the  alternative?"  she  asked. 

His  expression  changed  and  he  looked  slowly  away 
from  her  at  the  flying  landscape.  "I  regret  that  you 
are  still  oblivious  to  your  danger.  You  and  one  other 
person  in  Europe  were  the  witnesses  to  the  meeting  at 
Konopisht.  His  Majesty's  government  does  not  deem 
it  expedient  at  this  time  that  you  should  be  at  liberty 
to  discuss  the  matter 

"But  I  have  already  spoken " 

"That  matters  nothing  if  the  witnesses  are  elimi- 
nated." 

His  tones  were  quiet,  but  there  was  no  doubt  as  to 
his  meaning  and  she  started  back  from  him  in  dismay. 

"You  mean  that  you  would " 

She  halted  again,  wordless. 

"Political  secrets  are  dangerous — their  possessors 
a  menace." 

"You — you  would  destroy ?"  she  gasped. 

"The  evidence !"  he  finished. 

His  voice  was  firm,  his  lips  compressed,  and  he  would 
not  look  at  her.  But  she  was  still  incredulous.  Civil- 
ity such  as  his  and  violence  such  as  he  suggested  were 
incongruous.  She  took  refuge  from  her  terror  in  a 
laugh. 

"You  are  trying  to — to  frighten  me,"  she  stammered. 

"If  you  are  frightened,  I  am  sorry.  You  are  in  no 
102 


AN  ESCAPE  AND  A  CAPTURE 

danger,  if  you  will  do  what  I  ask.  I  shall  spare  no 
courtesy,  neglect  no  pains  for  your  comfort." 

"Thanks.  That  is  kind  of  you.  You  will  gorge  the 
goose  that  it  may  be  the  more  palatable." 

He  gave  a  slight  shrug. 

"I  am  but  doing  my  duty.  In  my  position,  Countess, 
one  is  but  a  piece  of  thinking  machinery." 

"Yet  it  has  been  said  that  even  machinery  has  a 
soul." 

He  glanced  around  at  her  quickly,  but  she  was  look- 
ing straight  before  her  at  the  narrow  ribbon  of  road 
which  whirled  toward  them.  She  was  very  handsome, 
this  dark-haired  prisoner  of  his,  and  the  personal  note 
that  had  fallen  into  her  speech  made  their  relations 
at  once  more  easy  and  more  difficult. 

"I  regret,"  he  said  coolly,  "that  my  orders  have 
been  explicit.  I  still  demand  that  you  comply  with  the 
conditions  I  have  imposed.  Your  word  of  honor — it 
is  enough." 

She  paused  for  a  long  moment — debating  her 
chances.  She  was  selling  her  liberty — bartering  it  with 
a  word — for  Sophie  Chotek.  This  was  her  atonement, 
and  if  she  failed,  her  sacrifice  would  be  in  vain. 

She  took  a  surreptitious  glance  at  the  profile  of 
Captain  Goritz.  A  part  of  the  great  machine  that  the 
world  calling  Germany  he  might  be,  but  she  read  some- 
thing in  his  looks  which  gave  her  an  idea  that  he 
might  be  something  more  than  a  cog  between  the 
wheels. 

Some  feminine  instinct  in  her,  aroused  by  his  impag- 
sive  performance  of  his  duty,  gave  her  new  courage. 
Since  they  were  at  war,  she  would  play  the  game  using 
women's  weapons.  After  all,  he  was  a  man,  a  mere  man. 

103 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

When  she  spoke,  it  was  with  the  air  of  calm  resolu- 
tion with  which  one  faces  heavy  odds. 

"I  am  in  your  power,"  she  said  quietly.  "I  give  my 
word  of  honor  to  do  as  you  wish." 

And  as  his  gaze  dwelt  for  a  moment  upon  her  face — 
"I  shall  not  break  it,  Captain  Goritz." 
"Good!"  he  said,  with  an  air  of  satisfaction.    "Now 
we  understand  each  other.'* 

Meanwhile  the  machine  went  thundering  on,  the  man 
at  the  wheel  driving  with  a  skill  which  excited  admira- 
tion. At  times  the  speed  of  the  car  seemed  frightful, 
for  it  swerved  dangerously  at  the  frequent  turns  in  the 
road,  but  Marishka  clung  desperately  to  the  arm-rest 
to  save  herself  from  being  thrown  into  the  arms  of 
Captain  Goritz,  aware  of  her  impotence,  but  conscious, 
too,  of  a  sense  of  exhilaration  in  the  wildness  of  their 
pace,  which  seemed  at  any  moment  likely  to  throw  both 
the  car  and  its  occupants  into  the  ditch.  Her  compan- 
ion made  no  effort  to  resume  the  conversation  and  only 
sat  staring  forth  watching  the  villages  through  which 
they  passed,  his  brows  deeply  thoughtful. 


CHAPTER  IX 

CAPTAIN  GORITZ 

AT  Iglau,  a  town,  as  Marishka  afterwards  learned, 
inhabited  largely  by  Germans,  they  stopped  to 
replenish  the  petrol  tank.  But  Captain  Goritz 
wore  a  deep  frown  when  he  got  into  the  seat  with  the 
chauffeur,  who  immediately  started  the  car.  They 
were  off  again. 

What  this  action  portended  Marishka  could  not 
know,  nor  could  she  understand  the  meaning  of 
the  conversation  which  immediately  took  place  be- 
tween the  two  men.  But  the  car  still  moved  forward 
as  rapidly  as  before,  and  in  a  moment  when  they 
skidded  around  a  passing  vehicle  and  dangerously  near 
a  stone  wall,  she  found  herself  wishing  that  Captain 
Goritz  had  chosen  to  enter  the  limousine,  leaving  all 
the  wits  of  their  astonishing  chauffeur  for  the  exigen- 
cies of  the  road. 

But  as  the  front  window  was  down,  a  tribute  to  the 
confidence  her  jailer  now  reposed  in  her,  fragments  of 
their  conversation  reached  her. 

"A  road — away  from  trunk-lines.  Jarmeritz,  per- 
haps. ...  It  should  not  be  difficult — a  Peugeot  if 
possible,  or  a  Mercedes — its  age  would  tell.  At  any 
time  now.  ...  A  detour  here,  I  think — there  is  a  tel- 
egraph line  along  the  hill  yonder.  ...  It  would  be 
better  in  a  more  desolate  place,  in  the  foothills  of  the 

105 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

Mahrische-Hohe.     It  is  a  matter  of  luck,  Karl.     We 
must  chance  it." 

She  saw  the  chauffeur  nodding  and  putting  in  here 
and  there  a  suggestion,  while  every  little  while  she 
caught  an  allusion  to  herself.  She  had  no  inkling  of 
the  meaning  of  this  extraordinary  conversation  nor  of 
the  way  the  man  called  Karl  now  slowed  down  as  they 
passed  other  machines  either  going  or  coming,  and 
gazed  at  them  with  a  critical  air,  shaking  his  head  as 
he  passed  on  at  redoubled  speed.  But  the  mystery 
was  soon  to  be  revealed  to  her,  for  on  a  long  piece 
of  level  road  which  went  straight  through  a  strip 
of  pine  woods,  she  felt  the  machine  leap  suddenly 
forward  and  heard  the  comments  of  the  men  in 
front. 

"I  cannot  tell  at  this  distance.  A  good  one,  I  should 
say,  and  new."  And  gazing  through  the  dust  before 
her  she  made  out  the  lines  of  a  touring-car  traveling 
rapidly  in  the  same  direction  as  their  own.  Karl's 
motor  horn  sent  a  deep  blast,  but  the  fellow  in  front 
was  in  no  mood  to  give  him  the  road.  He  repeated  it 
loudly,  warningly,  encroaching  upon  the  rear  wheels 
of  the  touring  car,  and  at  last  the  other  car  slowed 
down,  and  as  the  road  was  narrow,  drew  aside  into  a 
shallow  ditch.  But  instead  of  putting  on  speed  in  pass- 
ing, as  he  had  done  before,  the  chauffeur  Karl  merely 
drew  up  a  little  ahead  of  the  other  car  and  held  out 
his  hand  as  a  signal  to  stop  while  Captain  Goritz 
quickly  clambered  down  into  the  road  and  stood  just 
below  Marishka  where  she  could  quite  easily  hear  the 
conversation  which  followed.  The  people  in  the  tour- 
ing car  were  a  chauffeur,  a  stout  man  and  a  small  boy. 
Captain  Goritz  was  bowing  politely. 

106 


CAPTAIN  GORITZ 


"Very  sorry,"  he  said,  "but  we  are  almost  out  of 
petrol." 

"There  is  a  garage  a  few  miles  beyond,"  said  the 
chauffeur  of  the  touring  car. 

But  Goritz  shook  his  head. 

"I  wish  to  exchange  cars  with  you — at  once,  please." 

The  chauffeur  and  the  stout  man,  who  looked  like  a 
small  magistrate,  sat  staring  at  Goritz  as  though  they 
thought  that  he  or  they  had  suddenly  been  bereft  of 
their  senses.  But  Karl,  who  seemed  to  know  precisely 
what  to  do,  got  down  beside  them  and  produced  from 
his  pocket  a  pistol,  which  he  brandished  in  their  direc- 
tion. The  meaning  of  the  situation  was  now  obvious, 
and  the  Austrians  scrambled  down  in  great  alarm. 

Captain  Goritz  smiled  at  their  precipitous  move- 
ments and  his  voice  was  reassuring  as  he  addressed  the 
fat  man. 

"I  regret  that  we  have  no  time  to  lose.  I  only  ask 
you  to  exchange  cars  with  me.  Mine,  I  think,  is  the 
more  valuable." 

But  the  others  seemed  stricken  dumb  and  continued 
to  stare  wide-eyed,  their  mouths  gaping  open. 

"Would  you  mind  telling  me  how  you  are  equipped 
with  oil  and  petrol?"  asked  Goritz  coolly. 

"The  tank  is  full,"  stammered  the  frightened  chauf- 
feur, still  eyeing  Karl's  weapon  dubiously.  But  by  this 
time  the  fat  man  had  regained  some  of  his  courage. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this  outrage?"  he  blustered. 

"We  go  upon  a  matter  of  life  and  death,"  said  Goritz 
sharply. 

"And  I " 

His  remark  was  cut  short,  for  at  that  moment  a  bul- 
let from  Karl's  pistol  went  off  somewhere  in  his  general 

107 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

direction,  and  leaving  the  boy  and  the  chauffeur  to 
their  fate,  he  fled,  a  frightened  behemoth,  into  the 
woods. 

Captain  Goritz  now  opened  the  door  of  the  limou- 
sine. 

"You  will  get  down  at  once,  please,"  he  said  quietly 
to  Marishka.  "We  will  go  on  in  the  other  car."  And 
while  Karl  transferred  a  suitcase  and  other  personal 
belongings,  Captain  Goritz  scribbled  something  upon 
a  card  which  he  handed  to  the  astonished  chauffeur. 
"If  your  master  ever  comes  back  and  is  not  satisfied 
with  his  bargain,  he  should  present  himself  at  this  ad- 
dress in  Vienna  and  the  matter  will  be  satisfactorily 
arranged."  And  then  as  he  got  into  the  tonneau  of 
the  car  beside  Marishka,  "I  would  warn  you  not  to 
follow  us  too  closely.  It  would  be  dangerous." 

Karl  put  in  the  gears  and  they  started  at  once.  "It 
would  also  be  difficult,  Herr  Hauptmann,"  he  said  with 
a  laugh,  "for  I  have  locked  the  switch." 

"Ah,  it  is  better  so,"  said  Goritz  calmly.  "And  now, 
by  Jarmeritz,  I  should  think." 

Karl  nodded  and,  increasing  the  speed  of  the  touring 
car,  soon  left  the  green  limousine  and  its  new  owners 
far  behind. 

The  precision  and  speed  with  which  the  exchange  of 
automobiles  had  been  accomplished  and  the  unruffled 
impudence  of  the  demeanor  of  Captain  Goritz  gave 
Marishka  a  new  idea  of  the  caliber  of  the  man  upon 
whose  mercies  she  had  been  thrown,  a  new  idea  of  the 
lengths  to  which  he  was  prepared  to  go  in  the  perform- 
ance of  his  duty.  Success,  the  gaining  of  which  might 
easily  have  been  tragic,  was  by  his  command  of  the 
situation  turned  into  something  which  seemed  comically 

108 


CAPTAIN  GORITZ 


near  opera-bouffe.     She  could  not  understand  what  it 
all  meant  and  timidly  she  asked  him. 

He  smiled  gravely. 

"Your  friend,  Herr  Windt,  will  be  trying  to  make 
our  journey  difficult  for  us.  The  green  limousine  was 
conspicuous.  It  was  observed  in  Vienna.  We  shall  be 
more  dusty,  but  I  hope  otherwise  quite  as  comfort- 
able." 

"You  think  that  we  may  be  detained?"  she  asked 
anxiously. 

"We  shall  do  our  best  to  prevent  that  from  happen- 
ing," he  replied.  "The  way  is  long  and  our  paths  must 
be  devious,  but  I  think  we  shall  succeed.  There  are 
many  roads  to  Vienna,  Countess."  And  then,  with 
an  air  of  consideration,  "I  hope  that  loss  of  sleep  is 
not  wearing  on  you.  Presently  we  shall  get  out  and 
have  something  to  eat." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Marishka  with  a  grateful  glance. 

She  felt  Captain  Goritz's  look  upon  her  for  a  long 
moment  after  she  had  turned  away.  Marishka  sighed 
gently.  Her  companion's  gaze  left  her  and  he  peered 
straight  before  him,  frowning.  All  this  she  knew  by 
her  woman's  sixth  sense  without  even  looking  at  him. 
Even  a  thinking  machine  must  have  its  moments  of 
aberration.  In  a  little  while,  the  choice  of  roads  hav- 
ing been  decided,  he  turned  to  her  again  and  Marish- 
ka's  eyes  met  his  fairly. 

"You  have  not  already  regretted  your  bargain?"  he 
asked  quietly. 

"No,"  she  replied,  smiling  at  him.  "If  you  succeed, 
I  shall  regret  nothing.  A  pawn  has  small  chance,  when 
the  fate  of  kings  is  in  question." 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment. 
109 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"I  hope  that  you  will  understand  my  position,  Count- 
ess. It  is  not  my  wish  to  make  war  upon  women " 

"But  one's  duty  is  paramount,  of  course,"  she  put 
in  quickly.  "I  am  not  squeamish,  Captain  Goritz,  but 
if  my — my — er — elimination  is  necessary  to  your  plans, 
it  is  only  fair  that  I  should  be  advised  of  the  fact  in 
time  to  say  my  prayers." 

He  regarded  her  soberly.  Was  she  laughing  at  him? 
Her  mien  was  quite  serious,  but  her  tone  was  sprightly 
— even  flippant. 

"It  would  be  a  matter  of  profound  regret  to  me, 
Countess  Strahni,"  he  said,  with  some  dignity,  "if  any 
misfortune  should  happen  to  you  while  under  mj 
charge." 

"It  is  so  nice  of  you  to  put  it  that  way,"  she  smiled 
at  him.  "Under  other  conditions,  you  know,  we  might 
even  have  been  friends." 

"I  would  be  deeply  pained  if  you  should  consider  me 
an  enemy,"  he  replied. 

"Achl  leider!"  she  sighed.  "A  prisoner  can  have 
no  choice." 

He  made  no  reply  to  that  and  sank  back  into  his 
favorite  position  with  arms  folded,  staring  straight 
before  him.  This  girl  was  too  handsome  to  quibble 
with.  Her  newly  discovered  cheerfulness  disturbed  him. 
He  had  known  in  abundance  women  of  courage,  women 
of  skill  in  dissimulation,  but  he  remembered  that  when 
they  were  both  beautiful  and  clever  it  was  the  part  of 
wisdom  to  be  upon  one's  guard. 

Marishka  glanced  at  Captain  Goritz's  well-shaped 
head  in  the  seat  beside  her.  It  was  to  be  war  between 
them — war!  A  thinking  machine!  Was  he?  She  smiled 
to  herself.  She  knew  that  she  had  power.  What  hand- 

110 


CAPTAIN  GORITZ 


some  clever  woman  does  not  know  it?  Men  had  desired 
her — a  Russian  duke,  an  Italian  prince.  And  an  Aus- 
trian archduke  even,  braving  the  parental  ire,  had 
wished  to  marry  her,  willing  even  to  sacrifice  his 
princelj  prerogatives  if  she  would  have  said  the  word. 

Hugh  Renwick She  swallowed  bravely.  .  .  .  But 

the  sense  of  her  power  over  men  gave  her  a  new  courage 
to  meet  Captain  Goritz  with  a  smile  upon  her  lips  while 
she  summoned  in  secret  all  her  feminine  instinct  to  aid 
her  in  the  unequal  struggle,  a  game  needing  both  caution 
and  daring,  a  game  for  high  stakes — in  which  perhaps 
no  quarter  would  be  given. 

As  they  approached  the  environs  of  Vienna,  the  car 
now  moved  at  a  reduced  speed  and  boldly  chose  the 
main  highroads.  Twice  they  were  stopped  and  ex- 
amined. This  showed  that  all  the  machinery  of  the 
telegraph  was  now  in  operation,  but  the  touring  car 
did  not  answer  to  the  given  description  and  Captain 
Goritz's  air  of  surprise  and  annoyance  was  so  genuine 
that  there  was  little  delay. 

Our  friends  of  the  Mahrische-Hohe  are  fortunately 
still  frightened  or  else  quite  satisfied  with  the  green 
limousine,"  he  laughed.  "We  shall  go  through,  I 
think." 

"Shall  we  be  in  time?"  asked  Marishka. 

The  German  shrugged  and  looked  at  his  watch.  "We 
shall  be  in  Vienna  in  twenty  minutes." 

Marishka  made  no  comment.  As  their  journey 
neared  its  ending  she  realized  that  she  was  very  tired, 
but  the  incentive  that  had  spurred  her  last  night  and 
all  day  still  gave  her  strength  to  cope  with  whatever 
was  to  come. 

"To  the  Embassy,"  Goritz  whispered,  "and  faat !" 
Ill 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

He  had  mounted  again  into  the  seat  beside  the  chauf- 
feur, and  so  Marishka  did  not  question  him,  but  his 
back  was  eloquent  of  determination.  They  drove  boldly 
into  the  Ringstrasse  and  turned  rapidly  into  a  side 
street.  Here  the  machine  stopped  again  and  Captain 
Goritz  stood  at  the  door  of  the  tonneau  waiting  for  her 
to  descend.  He  led  the  way,  walking  rapidly,  while 
Marishka  struggled  beside  him  as  fast  as  her  stiffened 
limbs  permitted. 

"The  Ambassador  can  succeed  where  we  should  fail. 
He  must  procure  an  interview  for  you.  I  think  it  may 

be  managed  unless "  He  paused.  "But  we  shall 

see." 

Silently  Marishka  followed  into  the  Metternichgasse 
and  up  the  steps  of  the  Embassy  and  into  a  lofty  salon 
where  Captain  Goritz  bade  her  wait,  and  disappeared. 
A  gloomy  room  with  dingy  frescoes  of  impossible  cupids 
and  still  more  impossible  roses.  Roses — the  leit  motif 
of  her  tragedy!  There  were  mirrors — many  mirrors, 
all  of  which  seemed  to  be  reflecting  her  pallid  face.  She 
was  weary  and  covered  with  dust,  but  not  so  weary  as 
she  was  desperate.  Why  should  she  wait  again,  while 
Sophie  Chotek  was  here — here  in  Vienna.  Unable  to 
remain  seated,  she  rose  and  walked  about  the  room,  the 
eternal  feminine  impelling  a  rearrangement  of  her  hat 
and  veil  at  the  long  mirror  near  the  upper  end  of  the 
room.  Beside  her  was  a  window  which  opened  upon  a 
small  court.  Opposite  this  window  was  another  win- 
dow from  which  came  sound  of  voices.  She  listened.  It 
was  her  privilege,  for  they  were  speaking  of  her. 

"...  I  acted  upon  my  own  judgment,  Excellency. 
There  seemed  nothing  else  to  do.  The  Countess  Strah- 
ni  has  given  me  her  word  of  honor.  She  will  keep  it." 


CAPTAIN  GORITZ 


"Impossible!" 

"I  beg  you  to  try  it — at  once." 

"Ah— the  telephone!" 

Marishka  heard  the  clicking  of  the  instrument  and 
the  voice  again  asking  for  a  number.  Silence.  And 
then — "I  do  not  understand.  ..."  A  pause.  "Ach — 
so!"  Another  click  and  tinkle  of  the  bell.  "Donner- 
wetter,  Herr  Hauptmann!  You  are  right.  They  say 
there  is  a  temporary  derangement  of  the  system." 

Another  bell  sounded.  A  door  opened  and  shut. 
Then  a  question  in  the  same  voice. 

"Graf  von  Mendel,  the  Archduke  Franz  reached 
Vienna  this  afternoon  with  the  Duchess  on  the  way  to 
Sarajevo.  Where  are  they  now?" 

Another  voice  replied,  "I  do  not  know,  Excellency. 
They  were  at  prayers  in  the  Capuchin  Church." 

"When  does  their  train  leave  Vienna?" 

"At  six — from  the  Staats  Bahnhof — Excellency." 

"It  is  six  o'clock  now,"  cried  the  other  voice  in  dis- 
may. "We  are  too  late " 

Marishka  heard  no  more.  It  was  enough.  Too  late ! 
She  had  failed.  Her  sacrifice,  her  atonement, — fruit- 
less. She  sank  into  a  chair  and  buried  her  face  in 
her  hands,  trying  to  think.  But  in  her  head  was  a  dull 
chaos  of  sounds,  echoes  of  her  wild  ride,  and  her  body 
swayed  as  she  sat.  She  had  never  fainted,  but  for  a 
moment  it  seemed  that  she  lost  consciousness.  She 
found  herself  presently  staring  through  her  fingers  at 
the  pattern  in  the  gray  aubusson  carpet — and  wonder- 
ing where  she  was.  Then  she  heard  the  voices  again 
and  remembered  that  she  must  listen. 

113 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

The  voice  of  the  one  they  called  Excellency  was 
speaking. 

"Herr  Gott,  Goritz!  Austria's  mad  archdukes!  The 
telegraph  also  closed!  It  is  unbelievable.  I  must  send 
a  message  in  code  to  Berlin." 

"It  would  be  delayed,"  said  Goritz  dryly. 

"But  something  must  be  done " 

"If  you  will  permit " 

"Speak." 

"Excellency,  this  is  a  desperate  game.  I  thought 
perhaps  we  should  arrive  in  time  to  get  a  message 
through.  But  Herr  Windt  has  wasted  no  time.  We 
must  suit  our  actions  to  the  emergency " 

"Of  course.    But  how?" 

"Go  to  Sarajevo — at  once." 

"But  I " 

"Not  you,  Excellency.  I  shall  go.  A  railroad  book, 
Graf  Mendel,  if  you  please.  Today  is  the  twenty-sixth. 
The  Archduke  goes  by  way  of  Budapest.  We  can 
save  several  hours,  I  think,  by  way  of  Gratz  and  Agram 
— if  there  is  a  train  tonight." 

"And  the  Countess  Strahni?" 

"Your  Excellency  may  well  see  her  usefulness  merely 
in  telling  what  has  happened  in  her  efforts  to  reach 
the  ear  of  the  Duchess  of  Hohenburg.  No  word  from 
you  to  Archduke  Franz  could  be  more  convincing " 

"Ja  wohl,  even  if  I  could  send  it " 

"And  you  cannot — of  that  I  am  convinced." 

Another  voice  broke  in. 

"A  train  at  eight — Excellency — by  way  of  Oeden- 
burg  and  Bruck — reaching  Marburg  in  the  morn- 
ing  " 

"Good!" 

1U 


CAPTAIN  GORITZ 


"And  from  there,"  added  Goritz,  "by  automobile 
along  the  new  military  road  through  Brod.  We  might 
reach  Sarajevo  tomorrow  night — surely  by  Sunday 
morning." 

"If  that  would  not  be  too  late." 

"It  is  the  only  thing  to  do." 

A  silence.    And  then — 

"The  Countess  Strahni  is  here?" 

"Yes,  Excellency." 

"You  will  make  proper  preparations  to  leave  at  once 
— secretly — you  understand.  I  will  secure  the  neces- 
sary papers." 

"Ztt  befeM,  Excellency " 

Without  waiting  to  hear  the  conclusion  of  the  inter- 
view Marishka  moved  away  from  the  window  to  the 
further  end  of  the  room,  and  when  Goritz  came  some 
moments  later  she  stood  looking  out  upon  the  traffic 
of  the  street.  Fortunately  dissimulation  was  not  diffi- 
cult, as  the  growing  darkness  of  the  room  hid  her 
face. 

"We  are  too  late,"  said  Captain  Goritz.  "The  Arch- 
duke's train  has  gone." 

"How  terrible!"  muttered  Marishka. 

"Are  you  prepared  to  go  on,  Countess  Strahni?" 

"Yes — yes,  if "  she  paused. 

"To  Sarajevo — tonight — at  once?" 

"Yes — at  once." 

She  realized  that  she  was  repeating  his  words  like  a 
parrot,  but  she  seemed  to  be  speaking,  moving  as  in  a 
dream.  Captain  Goritz  came  closer  and  examined  her 
face  in  the  dim  light  of  the  window. 

"You  are  tired?" 

«A  little " 

115 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"I  am  sorry.  I  wish  I  could  spare  you  further 
trouble." 

"It  does  not  matter." 

Her  voice  was  very  close  to  tears. 

He  paused  uncertainly  for  a  moment. 

"Countess  Strahni,  we  leave  at  eight  by  the  night 
train.  I  shall  make  arrangements  for  your  comfort, 
a  sleeping  compartment.  In  the  meanwhile  you  may 
go  upstairs  to  a  guest  room  of  the  Embassy  and  rest. 
If  you  will  write  a  note  asking  for  a  valise  with  neces- 
sary articles  of  apparel,  I  will  see  that  it  is  brought  to 
you.  A  dark  suit  and  heavy  veil." 

He  walked  to  the  side  of  the  room  and  touched  a 
button.  "You  see,"  he  said  with  a  smile,  "I  am  trust- 
ing you." 

"You  are  very  kind." 

"Bit te.    You  will  not  mention  the  Embassy." 

"No." 

A  man-servant  appeared. 

"His  Excellency  wishes  the  Countess  Strahni  to  oc- 
cupy a  room  upstairs.  You  will  inform  one  of  the  up- 
stairs maids  that  everything  is  to  be  done  for  her  com- 
fort. You  will  also  bring  to  his  Excellency's  office  a 
note  which  Countess  Strahni  will  write." 

The  man  bowed,  then  stood  aside  while  Marishka 
went  out. 

"At  half-past  seven,  Countess " 

She  nodded  over  her  shoulder  to  where  the  German 
stood  with  bowed  head  looking  after  her. 


CHAPTER  X 

DIAMOND  CUTS  DIAMOND 

CAPTAIN  LEO  GORITZ  made  it  a  habit  to 
neglect  no  detail.  There  was  but  a  little  more 
than  an  hour  of  time,  but  he  acted  swiftly. 
At  his  request  the  Ambassador  procured  money, 
and  from  the  War  Ministry  the  necessary  papers, 
a  safe  conduct  for  an  officer  of  the  Fifteenth  Army 
Corps,  returning  to  his  regiment  at  Sarajevo  with 
his  wife.  Graf  von  Mendel  attended  to  the  secret 
arrangements  for  their  departure  from  the  Embassy 
and  booked  the  passage.  Captain  Goritz  sat  at 
a  desk  in  a  private  office,  upon  which  was  a  small 
copper  teapot  above  a  spirit  lamp.  The  water  in  the 
pot  was  steaming.  A  servant  knocked  at  the  door  and 
brought  him  a  letter. 

"Ah!  You  followed  my  directions  about  the  paper 
and  ink?" 

"As  you  ordered,  Herr  Hauptmann.  And  a  maid 
is  with  the  Countess  Strahni." 

"Very  good.  Wait  outside  and  be  prepared  to  take 
a  message  in  an  automobile." 

"Zu  befehl,  Herr  Hauptmann." 

As  the  servant  reached  the  door  Goritz  halted  him. 
"The  room  which  the  Countess  Strahni  has  is  not  on 
the  side  toward  the  British  Embassy?" 

"No,  Herr  Hauptmann." 
117 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"Very  good.     You  may  go." 

The  man  withdrew,  closing  the  door  gently.  And 
Captain  Goritz  took  the  note  of  the  Countess  Strahni 
and  held  it  in  front  of  the  copper  teapot,  moving  it  to 
and  fro,  the  back  of  the  envelope  in  the  jet  of  steam. 
In  a  moment  the  flap  of  the  envelope  curled  back  and 
opened.  The  thing  was  simplicity  itself.  He  took  two 
slips  of  paper  out  of  the  envelope  and  read  them 
through  attentively,  smiling  amusedly  as  he  did  so. 
Then  without  waste  of  time,  he  put  one  of  the  notes 
before  him,  and  drawing  some  writing  paper  nearer 
wrote  steadily  for  ten  minutes,  tearing  up  sheet  after 
sheet  and  burning  each  in  turn.  At  last  apparently 
satisfied  with  what  he  had  written  he  put  the  sheet 
aside  and  burned  the  original  note  in  which  he  had  been 
so  interested.  Then  he  addressed  several  small 
envelopes,  glancing  from  time  to  time  at  the  other  note 
of  the  Countess  Strahni  upon  the  desk  in  front  of  him, 
The  envelopes  all  bore  the  words, 

HEKB,  HUGH  RENWICK 

Strohgasse  No.  26* 
Wien. 

At  last,  critically  selecting  one  of  those  he  had  writ- 
ten, he  burned  the  others,  and  folding  the  note  enclosed 
it  in  the  smaller  envelope,  which  he  sealed  carefully,  ' 
putting  it  with  the  Countess  Strahni's  letter  into  the 
original  and  larger  envelope,  which  he  pasted  anew  and 
carefully  closed.  Then  he  rang  the  bell,  and  when 
the  man  appeared : 

"You  will  take  this  note  to  the  given  address.  You 
will  explain  that  the  note  within  is  to  be  delivered  to- 
might  at  eight  o'clock.  Then  you  will  wait  twenty 

118 


DIAMOND  CUTS  DIAMOND 

minutes   for   a  suitcase  or  valise  and  bring  it  here. 
That's  all.    And  hasten." 

"Zw,  befeM,  Herr  Hauptmann." 

Goritz  sat  for  a  moment — just  a  moment  of  con- 
templation. It  was  merely  a  thread  of  possibility,  a 
chance,  if  other  expedients  had  failed,  but  thoroughly 
worth  taking.  His  man  Kronberg  was  a  good  shot,  but 
he  might  have  missed,  and  if  so  Europe  was  large,  and 
Herr  Renwick  clever.  The  hook  of  Leo  Goritz  was 
baited  with  a  delectable  morsel — most  delectable — it 
would  have  been  childish  not  to  use  it.  Where  Marishka 
Strahni  was,  there  also  was  the  heart  of  Renwick — the 
Englishman  with  the  nine  lives — the  last  of  which  must 
be  taken. 

This  duty  accomplished,  Goritz  went  to  a  room  up- 
stairs, bathed  and  dressed  in  the  uniform  which  had 
been  provided,  packing  a  large  bag  with  several  ob- 
jects besides  clothing  and  necessities  of  the  toilet,  in- 
cluding two  automatic  pistols,  and  went  down  to  the 
Embassy  office.  All  this  had  occupied  an  hour.  He 
was  awaiting  Marishka  when,  somewhat  refreshed  and 
newly  attired,  she  descended  and  entered  the  Embassy 
office.  His  Excellency  rose  and  bowed  over  her  hand — 

"Captain  Goritz  tells  me  that  you  have  consented  to 
help  us  in  this  extraordinary  affair.  I  wish  you  God- 
speed, Countess  Strahni,  and  a  safe  return,"  he  added 
with  some  deliberateness. 

She  glanced  at  Captain  Goritz  who  stood  in  a  mili- 
tary attitude,  but  he  only  smiled  politely  and  said 
nothing. 

"I  thank  Your  Excellency  for  your  hospitality  and 
protection,"  she  said  slowly.  "I  am  sure  that  I  shall 

be  quite  safe  with  Captain  Goritz " 

119 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"Ober  Lieutenant  Carl  von  Arnstorf,  at  your  serv- 
ice," corrected  Goritz,  "of  the  Third  Regiment,  Fif- 
teenth Army  Corps." 

Marishka  smiled. 

"And  I?" 

"Frau  Ober  Lieutenant  von  Arnstorf,"  said  Goritz 
shortly. 

"It  is  necessary,  I  suppose?" 

Goritz  bowed,  and  his  Excellency  added,  "It  simpli- 
fies matters  greatly,  Countess  Strahni." 

Marishka  shrugged.     It  was  no  time  for  quibbling. 

"The  way  is  clear?"  asked  the  Ambassador  of  von 
Mendel. 

"Quite,  Excellency.  The  side  street  has  been  patrolled 
for  ten  minutes." 

Goritz  opened  a  door  which  led  to  a  small  staircase, 
and  he  and  Marishka  descended  and  went  through  the 
kitchens  to  a  small  street  or  alley  where  a  machine  was 
awaiting  them.  A  question — a  reply  from  a  man  who 
had  brought  down  their  bags,  and  they  moved  slowly 
out  of  the  alley  into  a  small  street. 

A  bath,  food,  and  a  glass  of  wine  had  restored 
Marishka,  and  she  now  faced  the  immediate  future  with 
renewed  hope  and  courage.  Apart  from  the  belief, 
fostered  by  the  careful  detail  of  her  companion  s 
arrangements,  that  she  might  still  be  successful  in 
reaching  the  ear  of  the  Duchess  before  the  royal  train 
reached  Sarajevo,  there  was  an  appeal  in  the  hazard  of 
her  venture  with  Captain  Goritz.  He  was  a  clever  man 
and  a  dangerous  one,  who,  to  gain  his  ends,  whatever 
they  were,  would  not  hesitate  to  stoop  to  means  beneath 
the  dignity  of  honorable  manhood — an  intriguer,  a  mas- 
ter craftsman  in  the  secret  and  recondite,  a  perverted 

120 


His  Excellency  rose  and  bowed  over  her  hand  — 


DIAMOND  CUTS  DIAMOND 

gentleman,  trained  in  a  school  which  eliminated  compas- 
sion, sentiment  and  all  other  human  attributes  in  the 
attainment  of  its  object  and  the  consummation  of  its 
plans.  And  yet  Marishka  did  not  fear  Captain  Goritz. 
There  is  a  kind  of  feminine  courage  which  no  man  can 
understand,  that  is  not  physical  nor  even  mental,  born 
perhaps  of  that  mysterious  relation  which  modern 
philosophy  calls  sex  antagonism — a  spiritual  hardihood 
which  deals  in  the  metaphysics  of  emotion  and  pays  no 
tribute  to  any  form  of  materiality.  Captain  Goritz, 
whatever  his  quality,  to  Marishka  was  merely  a  man. 
And  whatever  the  forces  at  his  command,  her  promise, 
the  half  uttered  threat  as  to  her  fate — which  she  had 
refused  to  take  seriously — she  was  aware  that  she  was 
not  defenseless.  The  elaborateness  of  the  Ambassa- 
dor's manner,  'the  graces  of  Graf  von  Mendel,  and  Cap- 
tain Goritz's  now  covert  glances  advised  her  that  she 
was  still  armed  with  her  woman's  weapons.  Marishka 
was  young,  but  her  two  years  in  the  life  of  the  gayest 
court  in  Europe  had  sharpened  her  perceptions  amaz- 
ingly, but  she  knew  that  if  beauty  is  a  woman's  letter 
of  credit  worth  its  face  value  with  a  man,  it  can  also 
be  a  dangerous  liability.  Captain  Goritz  differed  from 
the  gay  idlers  of  the  Viennese  Court.  The  signs  of 
interest  he  had  given  her  were  slight, — a  courtesy  per- 
haps a  trifle  too  studied,  a  lingering  glance  of  his  curi- 
ously penetrating  eyes  which  might  even  have  been  im- 
pelled by  professional  curiosity,  a  thoughtfulness  for 
her  comfort  which  might  have  been  any  woman's  due, 
and  yet  Marishka  did  not  despair. 

They  reached  the  railway  station  uneventfully,  where 
she  learned  that  men  from  the  Embassy  had  followed 
on  bicycles  as  a  matter  of  precaution,  and  the  travelers 

121 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

found  their  compartment  and  were  safely  installed. 
She  sank  into  her  place  silently  and  looked  out  of  the 
window  into  the  blur  of  moving  lights  as  Vienna  was 
left  behind  them.  Upon  the  seat  opposite  her  sat  the 
newly  created  officer  of  the  Fifteenth  Army  Corps,  Ober 
Lieutenant  Carl  von  Arnstorf,  looking  rather  smart  in 
his  borrowed  plumage.  The  intimacy  of  their  new 
situation  did  not  frighten  her,  for  she  thought  that  al- 
ready she  had  read  enough  of  her  companion's  charac- 
ter to  know  that  at  least  so  far  she  was  on  safe  ground. 
She  gave  him  permission  to  smoke  without  his  asking 
it,  and  this,  it  seemed,  made  for  the  beginnings  of  a 
new  informality  in  their  relations. 

"There  isn't  the  slightest  reason,"  she  said  with  a 
smile,  "that  you  should  be  uncomfortable.  Since  you 
are  doomed  for  the  present  to  share  my  imprison- 
ment—" 

"Doomed?"  he  exclaimed  civilly.  "You  may  be  sure 
that  I  don't  look  upon  such  a  doom  with  unhappiness, 
Countess.  Are  you  very  tired?" 

"A  little.     I  shall  sleep  presently." 

"Do  you  know,"  he  said  as  he  thoughtfully  inhaled 
his  cigarette,  "for  the  first  time  in  my  rather  variegated 
career,  I  find  myself  in  a  false  position." 

"Really!    How?" 

"I  will  explain.  I  have  had  much  dealing  to  do  with 
women — with  women  of  a  certain  sort.  It  is  a  part  of 
my  trade.  Were  you  unscrupulous,  intriguing,  you 
would  meet  your  match.  As  it  is  you  have  me  at  a  dis- 
advantage." 

"I?" 

"I  have  felt  it — from  the  first.  Even  a  secret  agent 
has  eyes,  dimensions,  senses.  I  am  a  little  abashed  as 


DIAMOND  CUTS  DIAMOND 

if  in  the  presence  of  phenomena.  Your  helplessness  and 
innocence,  your  loyalty  and  unselfishness — you  must  be 
sure  that  I  am  not  unaware  of  them." 

Marishka  laughed  easily. 

"You  restore  my  faith  in  human  kind,  Captain 
Goritz.  You'll  admit  that  your  attitude  toward  me  has 
been  far  from  reassuring." 

"Countess,  I  beg  of  you " 

"The  alternative  to  disobeying  your  wishes — destruc- 
tion— death !"  she  went  on,  shuddering  prettily. 

"I  am  merely  a  cog  in  the  great  wheel  of  efficiency.  I 
spoke  figuratively " 

"But  of  course  you  know,"  she  broke  in  quickly,  with 
another  laugh,  "that  I  didn't  believe  you.  I  haven't 
realh'  been  frightened  at  all.  How  could  I  be?  You're 
not  in  the  least  alarming.  To  face  the  alternative  you 
imposed  would  take  courage.  I  am  easily  frightened 
at  a  mouse.  The  deduction  is  obvious " 

He  laughed  and  then  said  soberly,  "It  is  far  from 
my  wish  to  frighten  you.  That  kind  of  brutality  has 
its  justification,  but  this  is  not  the  occasion,  nor  you 
the  woman." 

"I  was  sure  of  it.  If  I  hadn't  been  I  shouldn't  have 
come  with  you." 

"Ah !"  Goritz  straightened  and  stared  at  her.  "But 
— your  promise " 

"I  should  have  broken  that  and  asked  the  first 
gendarme  in  the  Ringstrasse  to  take  me  home.  You 
admit  that  the  plan  would  have  been  feasible?" 

He  shrugged. 

"The  Countess  Strahni's  word  of  honor " 

"Honor  is  as  honor  does — and  I  am  here,  Captain 
Goritz." 

123 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"I  trust  that  you  will  have  no  reason  to  regret  jour 
decision." 

"That  sounds  like  another  threat." 

"It.  isn't.  I  actually  mean  what  I  say.  A  secret 
agent  doesn't  permit  himself  such  a  luxury  very  often," 
he  laughed. 

"Then  you're  not  going  to  murder  me  offhand " 

"Countess,  I  protest " 

"You  wish  my  last  moments  to  be  graced  with 
courtesy.  I  shall  at  least  'die  like  a  rose — in  aromatic 
pain.'  " 

Her  irony  was  not  lost  on  him.  He  was  silent  a  mo- 
ment, regarding  her  soberly. 

"Countess,  you  are  too  clever  to  be  unkind — your 
lips  too  lovely  to  utter  words  so  painful.  I  could  not 
do  you  harm — it  is  impossible.  I  pray  that  you  will  be- 
lieve me." 

"I  am  merely  taking  you  at  face  value,  Herr  Haupt- 
mann,"  she  returned  coolly.  "You  have  told  me  that 
you  are  merely  a  thinking  machine,  or  a  cog  in  the 
wheel  of  efficiency,  which  plans  my  elimination — 

"A  figure  of  speech.    Your  silence  was  what  I  meant." 

"Ah,  silence!  Perhaps.  It  seems  that  I  have  al- 
ready said  enough." 

"Quite,"  he  smiled.  "You  have  set  Europe  in  a  tur- 
moil— another  Helen " 

"With  another  Paris  in  your  background?"  she  shot 
at  him. 

He  smiled,  lowering  his  gaze  to  the  ash  .of  his  ciga- 
rette. 

"You  speak  in  riddles." 

"It's  your  trade  to  solve  them." 

"Do  not  underestimate  my  intelligence,  I  understand 


DIAMOND  CUTS  DIAMOND 

you,"  he  laughed.  "It  is  a  fortunate  thing  for  me 
that  you  are  not  a  secret  agent.  My  occupation  would 
be  gone." 

"It  is  a  villainous  occupation." 

"Why?" 

"Because  no  secret  agent  can  be  himself.  It's  rather 
a  pity,  because  I'd  like  to  like  you." 

"And  don't  you— a  little?" 

"I  might  if  I  thought  that  I  could  believe  in  you. 
If  a  man  is  not  true  to  himself,  he  cannot  be  true  to 
those  that  wish  to  be  his  friends." 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"I  think  perhaps,"  he  said  quietly  at  last,  "that  you 
do  me  an  injustice.  I  am  merely  the  servant  of  my 
government " 

"Which  stops  at  no  means — even  death." 

"I  too  look  death  in  the  face,  Countess,"  he  said 
with  a  slow  smile.  "It  lurks  in  every  byway — hangs  in 
every  bush." 

"It  is  frightful,"  she  sighed,  "to  live  like  that, 
preying  upon  others,  and  being  preyed  upon — when 
the  world  is  so  beautiful." 

"The   world  is  just  what   men  have   made  it.      I, 

too,   once  dreamed "     His  words  trailed  off  into 

silence,  and  he  looked  out  of  the  window  into  the 
night. 

"And  now?"  she  asked. 

Something  in  the  tone  of  her  voice  made  him 
straighten  and  glance  at  her.  He  had  seen  the  same 
look  in  other  women's  eyes. 

"And  now,  I  dream  no  more,  Countess  Strahni,"  he 
said  abruptly. 

Marishka's  gaze  fell  before  his. 
125 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"I  am  sorry,"  she  said. 

There  was  another  silence  in  which  Captain  Goritz 
took  out  another  cigarette. 

"I  do  not  think  that  I  quite — understand  you, 
Countess  Strahni " 

"Naturally,"  she  broke  in.  "You  have  known  me — let 
us  see — a  little  less  than  twelve  hours." 

Her  smile  disarmed  him. 

"You  are  far  from  transparent,  Countess,"  he  said 
quizzically. 

"And  if  I  were?" 

"It  would  probably  be  because  you  wished  me  to  see 
something  beyond,"  with  a  laugh. 

"To  one  who  deals  in  mystery  and  intrigue,  sincerity 
must  always  be  bewildering." 

"H — m !  I  was  once  stabbed  in  the  back  by  a  woman 
who  was  too  sincere." 

The  smile  left  Marishka's  face.     "How  terrible!" 

"It  was.  I  nearly  died.  It  was  my  mistake,  you 
see." 

Marishka  was  silent  for  a  long  moment.     And  then, 

"I'm  afraid,  Captain  Goritz,  that  the  world  has  left 
you  bitter." 

"To  the  secret  agent  the  world  is  neither  sweet  nor 
bitter.  He  has  no  sense  of  taste  or  of  feeling.  He  is 
merely  a  pair  of  ears — a  pair  of  eyes  which  nothing 
must  escape " 

"Deaf  to  music — blind  to  beauty,"  sighed  Marishka. 
"From  the  bottom  of  my  heart  I  pity  you." 

Captain  Goritz  gazed  at  her  for  a  long  moment,  in 
silence,  then  his  eyes  narrowed  slightly  and  his  voice 
was  lowered. 

"It  is  rather  curious,  Countess  Strahni,  that  you 
126 


DIAMOND  CUTS  DIAMOND 

should  hold  in  such  low  esteem  a  profession  practiced 
by  one  of  your  most  favored  friends." 

"Mine?"  she  questioned,  startled. 

"Herr  Renwick,"  he  replied  dryly,  "is  a  secret  agent 
of  the  Serbian  government." 

A  gasp  escaped  her,  and  she  struggled  for  her  com- 
posure at  the  mention  of  Hugh  Renwick's  name. 

"That  is  impossible." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said  politely,  "I  happen  to 
know  it  to  be  the  truth." 

She  laughed  uneasily. 

"Until  two  weeks  ago  Herr  Renwick  was  an  attache 
of  the  British  Embassy,"  she  asserted. 

"Of  course.  But  he  has  been  also  in  the  pay  of  the 
Serbian  government — Austria's  enemy." 

"You  are  misinformed,"  she  gasped. 

"I  beg  your  pardon.  England  and  Serbia  are  on 
excellent  terms.  You  will  not  deny  that  Herr  Ren- 
wick has  been  to  Belgrade  in  the  last  two  weeks?" 

"You — you "  she  paused  in  consternation,  aware 

again  of  this  man's  omniscience. 

"The  details  had  not  been  clear  until  my  return  to 
Vienna.  Think  for  a  moment.  Herr  Renwick  visits 
Belgrade  and  Sarajevo  while  a  plan  is  arranged  to  take 
the  life  of  the  Archduke  Franz.  It  is  well  within  the 
bounds  of  possibility " 

"Your  skill  in  invention  does  you  credit,"  she  put  in 
quickly,  "but  Herr  Renwick  has  no  interest  in  the  death 
of  the  Archduke.  On  the  contrary,  he  has  done  what 
he  could  to  save  him." 

"You  will  admit  that  it  was  Renwick  who  gave  you 
the  information  of  this  plot." 

"Yes— but " 

127 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"One  moment.  You'll  also  admit  that  he  gave  no 
authority  for  his  information." 

"But  he  did  what  he  could  to  help  me  warn  the  Arch- 
duke." 

"H — m!  You  did  not  know  perhaps  that  it  is  to 
Serbia's  interest  and  to  Renwick's  to  warn  the  Arch- 
duke, Austria  needs  a  pretext  to  make  war  on  Serbia. 
Every  diplomat  in  Europe  is  aware  of  that.  If  the 
Archduke  is  attacked  in  Sarajevo,  war  will  be  declared 
on  Serbia  within  a  week." 

He  paused  a  moment  watching  Marishka's  face,  in- 
tent upon  its  changing  expressions. 

"Herr  Renwick  is  no  enemy  of  Austria,"  she  asserted 
firmly. 

"If  he  is  no  enemy  of  Austria,  how  could  he  act  for 
the  Serbian  government,  which  follows  instructions 
from  St.  Petersburg?  Herr  Renwick  knew  of  the  plot 
against  the  life  of  the  Archduke,  for  he  told  you  of  it. 
Where  did  he  learn  of  it?  In  Sarajevo  or  Belgrade, 
where  it  was  hatched.  Who  informed  him?  His  friends 
of  the  Serbian  Secret  Service  who  live  among  the  an- 
archists at  Sarajevo  and  Belgrade." 

"I  do  not  believe  you." 

"You  must.  Serbia  has  done  what  she  can  to  prevent 
this  crime.  His  Excellency  tells  me  that  today  the 
Serbian  Minister  in  Vienna  pleaded  with  the  Austrian 
Ministry  to  use  its  efforts  to  have  the  visit  of  the  Arch- 
duke Franz  postponed.  He  was  ignored." 

He  paused  and  flecked  his  cigarette  out  of  the  win- 
dow, while  Marishka  gazed  straight  before  her,  trying 
to  think  clearly  of  Hugh  Renwick.  A  Serbian  spy! 
It  was  impossible.  And  yet  every  word  that  this  man 
spoke  hurt  her  cruelly.  Renwick  had  been  in  Sarajevo 

128 


DIAMOND  CUTS  DIAMOND 

and  Belgrade,  for  he  had  told  her  so.  He  alone  of  all 
persons  outside  the  Secret  Government  of  Austria  had 
been  in  a  position  to  know  the  details  of  the  plot  and 
to  prepare  her  for  them.  He  had  sought  to  use  her  in 
warning  the  Duchess,  not  as  an  agent  of  humanity  and 
Christian  charity,  but  as  the  emissary  of  the  cowardly 
and  vicious  government  across  the  border,  Austria's 
enemy,  Serbia  the  regicide  and  the  degenerate,  about 
the  fate  of  which  hung  the  peace  of  Europe.  Hugh 
Renwick ! 

Her  mind  refused  her.  Fatigue  and  want  of  sleep 
were  making  her  light-headed.  She  would  not  believe. 
She  shut  her  eyes  and  by  an  effort  of  will  managed  to 
get  control  of  her  voice.  "I  find  that  I  am  very  tired, 
Captain  Goritz,"  she  said  quietly. 

"Ah,  it  was  very  thoughtless — inconsiderate  of  me," 
he  said,  with  sudden  accents  of  civility.  "It  is  very 
painful  to  believe  ill  of  those  to  whom  one  is  attached," 
he  finished  suavely. 

"You  are  mistaken,"  she  said  slowly.  "There  is  no 
attachment  between  Herr  Renwick  and  me." 

"A  friend,  let  us  say,  then,"  he  put  in  keenly,  "in 
whom  one  is  disappointed." 

"It  is  nothing  to  me,  Captain  Goritz,'-*  she  said,  meet- 
ing his  eyes  bravely,  "what  Herr  Renwick  is  or  does." 

He  smiled  and  bowed. 

"Still,"  he  said  with  his  exasperating  pertinacity,  "it 
is  of  course  interesting  to  know  the  truth.  It  would 
perhaps  be  still  more  interesting  to  know  what  Herr 
Renwick  has  to  say  in  regard  to  the  matter." 

"I  do  not  care  what  Herr  Renwick  would  have  to 
say.  I  do  not  expect  to  see  Herr  Renwick  again,  Cap- 
tain Goritz,  in  Vienna  or  elsewhere." 

129 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

He  smiled  at  her  politely. 

"But  you  will  admit,  it  is  not  within  the  bounds 
of  possibility.  Herr  Renwick  is  clever — indefati- 
gable  " 

Marishka  started  up  in  her  seat. 

"You  mean?" 

"Merely  that  Herr  Renwick  is  not  easily  discouraged. 
I  would  not  be  in  the  least  surprised  if  he  followed  us 
on  to  Sarajevo." 

Marishka  stared  at  her  companion  for  a  moment  and 
then  sank  back  in  her  seat. 

"Oh,"  she  gasped. 

Her  long  sustained  effort  to  keep  pace  with  events 
had  been  too  much  for  her.  Her  faculties  failed  to 
respond,  and  she  closed  her  eyes  in  an  attempt  to  ob- 
literate all  sight  and  sound.  Dimly  she  heard  the  voice 
of  Captain  Goritz  above  the  grinding  of  the  brakes  of 
the  train. 

"I  am  sorry  that  you  are  so  tired,  Countess  Strahni. 
I  shall  now  leave  you  to  your  own  devices.  We  have 
reached  Briick,  and  I  shall  go  to  another  compartment. 
I  shall  arrange  with  the  guard  to  see  to  your  comfort." 

The  train  stopped  and  the  guard  opened  the  door. 

"Good-night,  liebcTien"  he  said  with  a  smile.  And  as 
she  opened  her  eyes  in  astonishment,  she  heard  him  say 
",to  the  guard : 

"Frau  Lieutenant  von  Arnstorf  desires  to  sleep.  I 
am  going  to  smoke  with  a  friend  in  the  adjoining  car- 
riage. She  is  not  to  be  disturbed.  You  understand." 

The  man  saluted  and  closed  the  door,  and  Marishka 
was  alone.  With  an  effort  she  rose  and  mechanically 
made  her  dispositions  for  sleep,  thinking  meanwhile  of 
the  words  of  Captain  Goritz  and  feeling  a  dull  and  un- 

130 


DIAMOND  CUTS  DIAMOND 

happy  sense  of  disappointment  and  defeat.  There  was 
a  latent  cruelty  under  his  air  of  civility  which  aston- 
ished and  terrified  her.  And  the  revelations  with  regard 
to  Hugh  Renwick,  astounding  though  they  were,  had  in 
them  just  enough  of  a  leaven  of  fact  to  make  them  al- 
most if  not  quite  credible.  Hugh  Renwick,  the  man  she 
had  chosen — a  friend,  a  paid  servant  of  atrocious 
Serbia !  She  could  not — would  not  believe  it.  And  yet 
this  man's  knowledge  of  European  politics  was  simply 
uncanny.  If  his  civility  had  disarmed  her  earlier  in  the 
day,  if  she  had  been  able  to  speak  lightly  of  the  threat 
of  her  imprisonment,  the  fear  that  had  always  been  in 
her  heart  was  now  a  blind  terror — not  of  the  man's 
passions  but  of  his  lack  of  them.  He  was  cold,  im- 
penetrable, impervious — a  mind,  a  body  without  a  soul. 
He  haunted  her.  She  lay  on  her  couch  and  stared  wide- 
eyed  at  vacancy.  The  sound  of  his  voice  still  rang  in 
her  ears.  She  wondered  now  why  the  memory  of  it 
was  so  unpleasant  to  her.  And  then  she  thought  she 
knew  that  it  was  because  the  magnetism  of  his  eyes  was 
missing.  His  body  was  a  mere  shell  covering  an  intri- 
cate piece  of  machinery.  She  tried  to  think  what  it 
must  be  like  to  be  actuated  by  a  mind  without  a  soul. 
She  had  pledged  herself  obedience  to  this  man,  trusting 
to  her  implicit  faith  in  the  ultimate  goodness  of  every 
human  creature  to  bring  her  through  this  venture  safe 
from  harm. 

Vaguely,  as  though  in  dreams,  she  remembered  that 
this  man  had  thought  that  Hugh  Renwick  would  fol- 
low her  to  Sarajevo.  She  had  written  him  a  note  of 
warning  telling  him  to  leave  for  England  at  once. 
Would  he  disregard  her  message,  discover  where  she 
had  gone,  and  if  so,  would  he  follow?  Renwick's  sins, 

131 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

whatever  they  were,  seemed  less  important  in  this  un- 
happy moment  of  her  necessity.     He  had  failed  her  in 

a  crucial  hour 

She  started  up  from  her  couch  a  smile  upon  her  lips. 
Hugh  Renwick  was  no  Serbian  spy.  The  man,  Goritz, 
lied.  Hugh  Renwick  and  Goritz — it  was  not  difficult  to 
choose !  One  a  man  who  let  no  personal  suffering — not 
even  the  contempt  of  the  woman  he  loved  interfere 
with  his  loyalty  to  his  country ;  the  other,  one  who  used 
a  woman's  loyalty  as  a  means  to  an  end — cruelly,  re- 
lentlessly— which  was  the  liar?  Not  Hugh  Renwick. 
Weary  and  tortured,  but  still  smiling,  Marishka  sank 
back  upon  her  couch  and  at  last,  mercifully,  she  slept. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  MAN  IN  BLACK 

IT  was  after  dark  when  the  train  bearing  Herr 
Windt  and  Renwick  reached  the  Franz  Josef  sta- 
tion, the  stolen  machine  of  Altensteig  having  been 
left  at  Budweis  with  Hadwiger,  who  was  to  return  it 
to  its  owner  and  in  the  name  of  the  state  to  make  proper 
arrangements  for  compensation.  Herr  Windt,  sadder 
if  no  wiser,  took  a  -fiacre  and  drove  off  hastily,  leaving 
Renwick  to  his  own  devices. 

To  the  Englishman,  Marishka's  case  seemed  desper- 
ate, for  though  the  identity  of  the  driver  of  the  green 
limousine  was  unknown,  his  cleverness  in  eluding  the 
net  which  Herr  Windt  had  spread  for  him  indicated 
him  to  be  an  agent  of  the  Wilhelmstrasse,  a  personal 
emissary  of  those  near  the  Kaiser,  who  was  moving  with 
great  skill,  using  every  means  of  a  great  organization 
to  keep  Marishka's  mission  and  identity  a  secret.  But 
Renwick  was  not  the  sort  of  a  man  that  gives  up  easily. 
In  the  back  of  his  head  an  idea  persisted,  and  he  planned 
to  follow  its  development  for  good  or  ill  to  its  conclu- 
sion. 

The  correctness  of  his  surmise  as  to  the  direction 
of  Marishka's  flight  in  the  green  limousine  had  con- 
vinced him  that  Vienna  was  not  her  final  destination. 
He,  too,  took  a  fiacre  and  drove  at  once  to  the  apart- 
ment of  Baroness  Racowitz.  Marishka's  guardian  was 

133 


away,  but  a  fee  to  the  Austrian  maid  put  him  in  pos- 
session of  the  facts. 

"No,  Herr  Renwick,"  she  replied,  "Countess  Strahni 
did  not  return  to  the  apartment,  but  she  was  in  Vienna 
and  had  sent  for  a  suitcase  and  clothing,  which  were 
''  delivered  to  a  man  who  waited  in  an  automobile." 

"What  sort  of  a  man?" 

"I  couldn't  exactly  say,  sir,  a  servant,  a  butler,  per- 
haps ;  but  there  was  a  note  for  Herr  Renwick." 

"Ah — give  it  to  me." 

"My  instructions  were  to  deliver  it  at  eight  o'clock 
at  Herr  Renwick's  residence  in  the  Strohgasse.  I  have 
but  just  returned  from  there." 

Renwick  started  down  the  steps  and  then  turned. 
"There  was  nothing  else  ?" 

"Nothing." 

"You  do  not  know  where  Countess  Strahni  is  ?" 

"I  know  nothing  more  than  I  have  told  you,  sir." 

Renwick  rushed  out  to  the  waiting  fiacre,  and  bade 
the  driver  go  at  top  speed.  A  note  from  Marishka ! 
Under  different  circumstances  this  would  not  perhaps 
have  been  surprising.  The  difference  that  the  change 
in  their  personal  relations  had  wrought  in  the  last  few 
weeks,  her  mood  during  their  hurried  flight  to  Kono- 
pisht,  her  desertion  of  him,  all  of  these  circumstances 
made  the  fact  of  her  writing  to  him  the  more  signifi- 
cant. She  had  accepted  his  services  in  the  escape  from 
Windt,  because  he  had  forced  them  upon  her,  but  he 
could  not  forget  that  she  had  afterward  repudiated  him 
and  fled  from  him  without  a  word  of  explanation  of  her 
sudden  decision.  His  own  personal  danger  had  warned 
him  that  Marishka,  his  companion  eavesdropper,  would 
also  be  in  jeopardy  at  the  hands  of  those  unseen  forces 

134 


THE  MAN  IN  BLACK 


which  were  working  in  the  interests  of  the  Wilhelm- 
strasse.  Marishka  had  thrown  herself  into  their  power 
and  was  perhaps  at  this  very  moment  in  danger.  But 
he  was  soon  to  know  the  facts.  At  his  apartment  his 
servant  handed  him  the  note  and  hastily  he  tore  it 
open  and  read. 

I  have  gone  to  Sarajevo.  I  must  do  what  I  can,  but  I 
need  you.  I  am  a  prisoner  and  in  great  personal  danger 
if  we  are  stopped  en  route.  Therefore  move  secretly,  tell- 
ing no  one.  Go  to  the  Hotel  Europa,  where  I  will  try  to 
communicate  with  you. 

M.  S. 

Renwick  read  the  communication  through  twice,  and 
then  glanced  at  his  watch.  Nine  o'clock.  There  was 
no  time  to  go  to  the  British  Embassy  in  the  Metternich- 
gasse,  though  he  would  have  liked  to  know  if  anything 
had  been  seen  of  Marishka  at  the  German  Embassy,, 
which  was  just  adjoining.  But  he  wrote  a  note  to  Sir 
Herbert,  then  called  his  servant,  who  packed  a  bag; 
while  Renwick  bathed  and  dressed.  At  ten  he  was  seat- 
ed in  the  train  for  Budapest — a  slow  train  that  he 
had  taken  two  weeks  before  on  his  mission  to  Belgrade. 

He  had  made  this  move  on  impulse,  without  second 
thought,  for  Marishka's  message  as  to  her  destination 
again  justified  his  surmises  and  corroborated  his  fears 
as  to  her  perilous  situation.  No  other  thoughts  save 
those  of  her  danger  and  her  need  of  him  had  entered  his 
head,  and  he  had  moved  quickly,  aware  that  any  loss  of 
time  might  be  fatal  to  his  hope  of  helping  her.  But 
seated  in  his  compartment  of  the  railway  carriage,  he 
had  time  to  consider  the  note  in  all  its  aspects  and  in 
its  relation  to  the  extraordinary  events  of  the  day. 

135 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

There  were  but  two  other  occupants  of  the  carriage,  an 
old  gentleman  with  a  white  beard,  and  a  young  Hun- 
garian officer — a  vacuous  looking  youth  in  uniform — • 
neither  of  them  obviously  of  material  from  which  se- 
cret service  agents  are  made.  After  the  experience  at 
the  Konopisht  railway  station,  Renwick  had  no  humor 
to  be  shot  at  in  such  close  quarters,  where  the  range 
would  necessarily  be  deadly.  He  settled  his  automatic 
comfortably  in  his  pocket,  and  after  another  and  more 
reassuring  inspection  of  his  traveling  companions  he 
took  out  Marishka's  note  and  examined  it  carefully. 

The  knowledge  he  possessed  as  to  her  situation  sug- 
gested caution.  An  agency  which  could  attempt  to 
take  his  life  would  not  be  above  forgery.  Marishka's 
hand?  There  seemed  no  doubt  of  it.  It  was  riot  diffi- 
cult for  Renwick  to  remember  the  peculiarities  of  her 
angular  writing.  The  notes  he  had  received  from  her, 
invitations,  appointments,  apologies — very  often  apol- 
ogies, he  remembered  with  a  slow  smile — dainty,  faintly 
scented  missives  on  gray  paper  which  bore  her  crest, 
differed  from  this  hurriedly  written  scrawl  on  a  heav- 
ier paper  which  he  had  no  means  of  identifying.  Only 
upon  closer  inspection  did  he  discover  a  hesitation  in 
the  lower  curves  and  upward  strokes  of  the  letters  which 
were  not  characteristic  of  the  decisive  Marishka. 

Without  being  certain  of  its  spuriousness,  he  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  because  of  its  contents,  the  note 
was  for  the  present  to  be  regarded  as  an  object  for  sus- 
picion. Would  Marishka — the  Marishka  who  a  few 
hours  ago  had  treated  him  with  such  acidulous  polite- 
ness— write,  "I  need  you"?  Could  contemptuous  si- 
lence be  turned  so  quickly  into  urgent  appeal?  Her 
danger  made  such  a  transition  a  possibility,  and  if  she 

136 


THE  MAN  IN  BLACK 


was  now  ready  to  recant,  all  the  more  reason  why  he 
should  obey.  The  one  thing  about  the  message  which 
struck  a  jarring  note  was  the  request  for  secrecy  under 
plea  of  personal  danger.  And  if  a  forgery — why  should 
his  enemies  speak  of  her  personal  danger?  A  lure! 
So  obvious  a  one  that  only  the  veriest  dolt  could  be 
/deceived  by  it.  The  situation  then  resolved  itself  into 
this :  He  was  invited  to  go  to  Sarajevo — if  by  Marish- 
ka,  to  save  ner  from  personal  danger  or  abduction  by 
her  captor — if  by  the  German  agent,  with  Marishka 
as  a  lure,  to  be  the  victim  of  a  conspiracy  which 
planned  either  murder  or  imprisonment.  And,  however 
keen  his  own  prescience,  Renwick  realized  that  the  note 
had  so  far  succeeded  in  its  object.  He  was  on  his  way. 

He  was  too  tired  tonight  to  do  the  situation  justice, 
for  the  blow  at  the  back  of  his  head  had  taken  some  of 
his  strength,  and  he  realized  that  without  sleep  his  util- 
ity would  be  impaired  for  the  morrow.  And  after  a 
glance  at  his  companions,  he  decided  to  chance  it,  and 
settling  himself  comfortably,  he  was  soon  heavily 
sleeping. 

Renwick  was  awakened  some  while  later  by  the  young 
Hungarian  officer's  cursing  as  he  stumbled  over  the 
Englishman's  feet.  A  glance  at  his  watch  showed  Ren- 
wick that  he  had  slept  four  hours.  It  was  dawn.  Be- 
side him  at  the  further  end  of  the  seat  the  old  man 
with  the  white  beard  still  slept.  Renwick  glanced  out 
of  the  window  and  found  that  the  station  was  Vacz. 
They  were  twenty  or  thirty  miles  from  the  Hungarian 
capital.  The  morning  was  cool,  and  Renwick  stepped 
down  from  the  open  door  upon  the  platform  and 
stretched  his  limbs,  sniffing  the  air  eagerly.  He  felt 
renewed,  invigorated,  and  the  ache  at  his  head  was 

137 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

gone.  He  had  made  no  plans  beyond  the  very  neces- 
sary one  of  getting  money  at  the  British  Consulate  and 
taking  the  first  train  south.  The  difficulties  in  making 
proper  connections,  the  probability  that  somewhere 
he  must  desert  the  railroad  and  beg,  buy,  or  steal  a 
motor  car,  and  the  ever  present  danger  of  a  shot  from 
a  German  agent  confronted  him,  but  in  his  early  morn- 
ing humor  nothing  seemed  impossible.  He  would  get 
through  in  some  way  and  find  a  means  of  reaching  Ma- 
rishka!  And  if  Marishka  were  already  spirited  away? 
He  would  find  her  and  the  green  limousine  chap  with 
whom  he  would  have  a  reckoning. 

Impatient  of  the  delay  of  the  train,  he  took  out  his 
cigarette  case  and  was  about  to  smoke,  when  the  warn- 
ing of  the  guard  was  shouted,  and  he  got  into  his  car- 
riage, followed  by  another  traveler  who  clambered  in 
at  the  last  moment  and  sank  into  the  seat  opposite.  As 
the  train  moved,  the  two  men  scanned  each  other  in  the 
light  of  the  growing  dawn  which  now  vied  with  the 
flickering  light  of  the  overhead  lamp  in  their  compart- 
ment. The  stranger  was  a  very  tall  man  in  dark  clothes, 
who  gave  an  instant  impression  of  long  rectangularity. 
He  had  a  long  nose,  a  long  upper  lip  which  hung  over 
a  thin  slit  of  a  mouth  which  resembled  a  buttonhole 
slightly  frayed  by  wear.  His  chin  was  long  and  square 
and,  like  his  upper  lip,  blue,  as  though  a  stiff  black 
beard  were  in  constant  battle  with  a  razor.  His  eyes 
were  large  and  regarded  Renwick  with  a  mild  melan- 
choly as  he  bowed  the  Englishman  a  good  morning. 
Renwick  nodded  curtly.  He  had  planned  another  nap 
and  hardly  relished  sitting  awake  and  staring  at  the 
sepulchral  visitor.  Where  last  night's  weariness  had 
sealed  his  eyes  to  the  ever-present  sense  of  danger, 

138 


THE  MAN  IN  BLACK 


morning  brought  counsel  of  caution  and  alertness.  The 
leanness  of  the  huge  intruder  was  of  the  kind  that 
suggested  endurance  rather  than  malnutrition,  a  per- 
son who  for  all  his  pacific  and  rather  gloomy  exterior, 
could  be  counted  on  to  be  extremely  dangerous. 

In  a  situation  where  any  man  might  prove  to  be  his 
hidden  enemy,  Renwick  was  learning  to  be  wary.  And 
so  upon  his  guard  for  any  movement  of  hostility,  he  sat 
bolt  upright  and  smoked  his  cigarette,  puffing  it  in- 
dolently into  the  face  of  his  solemn  companion.  Beyond 
the  first  greeting,  no  words  passed  between  them,  and 
the  Englishman,  more  at  his  ease,  looked  out  of  the 
window  at  the  low  marshlands  along  the  river  and 
planned  the  business  which  brought  him.  Day  came 
swiftly,  and  before  the  train  reached  the  city  the  sun 
was  up  in  smiling  splendor,  melting  the  pale  fogbanks  of 
the  Danube  valley  beneath  its  golden  glow. 

At  the  Westbahnhof,  Renwick  got  down,  and  bag  in 
hand  made  his  way  to  the  railway  restaurant  for  a 
cup  of  coffee.  The  keen  morning  air  had  made  him 
hungry,  and  he  breakfasted  like  a  man  who  does  not 
know  where  his  next  meal  is  coming  from.  It  was  not 
until  he  paid  his  check  and  got  up  from  the  table  that 
he  noticed  his  gigantic  companion  of  the  train  doing 
likewise,  but  he  gave  the  matter  no  thought,  and  getting 
into  a  waiting  fiacre  drove  to  the  British  Consulate  to 
make  some  necessary  arrangements,  including  the  pro- 
curing of  money  for  possible  large  expenses.  The 
Archduke  and  Duchess,  he  discovered,  had  slept  in  their 
car,  which  had  been  shifted  to  a  train  that  had  left 
for  the  south  in  the  early  hours  of  the  morning.  The 
service  on  the  road  was  none  too  good,  except  that 
of  the  Orient  Express,  which  had  gone  through  last 

139 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

night,  but  by  haste  Renwick  managed  to  catch  the 
nine  o'clock  train  for  Belgrade,  planning  to  get  off 
it  at  Ujvidek  and  trust  to  Providence  for  an  auto- 
mobile. 

He  was  no  sooner  comfortably  seated  in  his  com- 
partment and  congratulating  himself  upon  its  empti- 
ness, which  would  permit  of  opportunity  for  sleep, 
when  the  door  was  thrown  open  and  his  tall  com- 
panion of  the  early  morning  solemnly  entered.  Ren- 
wick  did  not  know  whether  to  be  surprised  or  angry, 
and  finished  by  being  both,  glancing  at  the  intruder 
through  his  monocle  in  a  manner  distinctly  offensive. 
But  the  tall  man  if  aware  of  the  Englishman's  antag- 
onism gave  no  sign  of  it,  clasping  his  cotton  umbrella 
with  large  bony  hands  and  gazing  gloomily  at  the 
passing  landscape. 

An  accidental  meeting  of  two  travelers  bound  in 
the  same  direction?  Perhaps.  But  there  was  too  much 
at  stake  for  Renwick  to  be  willing  to  take  chances, 
and  yet  he  could  not  kill  and  throw  out  of  the  window 
an  entire  stranger  who  looked  like  the  proprietor  of 
a  small  confectionery  shop,  in  mourning  for  a  de- 
parted friend.  Of  course  there  was  nothing  to  be 
done,  but  the  man's  presence  irritated  Renwick.  As 
the  moments  went  on,  and  the  man  still  silently  stared 
out  of  the  window,  Renwick's  choler  diminished.  The 
fellow  was  quite  harmless,  a  person  from  whom  mur- 
der and  secret  missions  were  miles  asunder.  If  the 
man  of  the  green  limousine  had  foreseen  that  Ren- 
wick would  take  the  nine  o'clock  train  for  Budapest 
and  had  set  this  behemoth  upon  him,  the  man  would 
have  made  an  attempt  upon  his  life  this  morning  in 
the  ride  between  Vacz  and  the  capital.  And  how,  since 

140 


THE  MAN  IN  BLACK 


the  telegraph  lines  were  closed  to  the  German  agent, 
could  this  person  have  been  put  upon  the  scent?  It 
hardly  seemed  possible  that  this  was  an  agent  of  Ger- 
many. And  yet  as  the  miles  flew  by,  the  stranger's 
silence,  immobility  and  unchanging  expression  got  on 
Renwick's  nerves.  He  was  in  no  mood  to  do  a  psycho- 
pathic duel  with  a  sphinx. 

The  morning  dragged  slowly.  At  Szabadka  he  got 
down  for  lunch  and  was  not  surprised  to  see  his 
traveling  companion  at  his  elbow,  eating  with  a  de- 
liberation which  gave  Renwick  a  momentary  hope  that 
the  train  might  get  off  without  him.  Renwick  was 
already  in  his  carriage  and  the  guard  calling  when 
the  fellow  stalked  majestically  from  the  eating-room 
munching  at  the  remains  of  his  Bohmische  Dalken  and 
entered  the  carriage,  still  clinging  to  the  cotton  um- 
brella, and  quite  oblivious  of  the  powdered  sugar  with 
which  he  was  liberally  besmeared.  Secret  agent !  The 
man  was  a  joke — a  rectangular  comedy  in  monosyl- 
lables. 

There  was  no  connection  for  Brod  at  Szabadka  until 
late  in  the  afternoon  and  Renwick  hoped  to  make  bet- 
ter time  by  going  on  to  Ujvidek,  a  large  town,  some- 
what sophisticated,  where  the  buying  or  hiring  of 
a  machine  would  be  a  possibility.  During  the  after- 
noon he  took  Marishka's  letter  from  his  pocket  and 
studied  it  again,  now  quite  oblivious  of  the  creature 
who  had  curiously  enough  resumed  the  same  seat  op- 
posite him.  And  in  his  concentration  upon  the  prob- 
lem of  the  note  the  man  was  for  the  moment  forgot- 
ten. It  was  only  when  he  glanced  up  quickly  and  quite 
unintentionally  that  he  saw  the  gaze  of  his  neighbor 
eagerly  watching  him.  It  was  only  a  fleeting  glance, 

141 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

but  in  it,  it  seemed,  the  whole  character  of  his  fellow 
traveler  had  changed.  His  hands  still  clasped  the 
umbrella,  the  sugar  was  still  smeared  upon  his  sallow 
cheeks,  but  it  seemed  that  his  eyes  had  glowed  with 
a  sudden  intentness.  A  second  later  when  Renwick 
looked  at  him  again,  the  man  was  staring  dully  at 
the  passing  cornfields  and  vineyards  and  he  thought 
he  had  been  mistaken.  He  would  have  liked  to  know 
more  of  this  fellow,  and  was  again  tempted  to  try  to 
draw  him  out  but  the  recollection  of  his  former  ven- 
ture dismayed  him.  So  he  relapsed  into  silence  and 
lying  back  in  his  seat,  one  hand  in  his  pocket,  he  closed 
his  eyes  and  feigned  slumber,  watching  the  man  through 
his  eyelashes.  For  a  long  while  nothing  happened. 
Then  at  last  as  Renwick's  breathing  became  regular 
the  giant's  head  turned,  and  his  eyes  regarded  the 
Englishman  stealthily.  Renwick  did  not  move.  But 
he  saw  his  companion  lean  slightly  forward  while  one 
hand  left  the  umbrella  handle,  unbuttoned  his  coat 
and  then  moved  very  slowly  behind  him.  That  was 
enough  for  Renwick,  who  started  upright  and  covered 
the  man  with  his  automatic.  But  the  other  had  merely 
drawn  a  large  and  rather  soiled  handkerchief  from  a 
pocket  of  his  trousers  and  was  in  the  act  of  blowing 
his  nose  when  he  looked  up  and  saw  the  impending 
blue  muzzle  of  Renwick's  weapon. 

Then  his  jaw  dropped  and  his  eyes  flew  wide  open. 

"Herr  Gott!"  he  stammered  in  a  husky  whisper. 
"Don't  shoot!" 

Whether  it  was  the  pleasure  of  discovering  that  the 
man  had  at  last  found  his  tongue  or  whether  the  in- 
nocence of  his  purpose  was  explained,  Renwick  found 
himself  much  relieved. 


THE  MAN  IN  BLACK 


"Are  you  crazy?"  the  other  was  saying.  "To  draw 
a  pistol  upon  me  like  that!  What  do  you  mean?" 

But  Renwick  still  held  the  pistol  pointed  in  his 
neighbor's  direction. 

"I  will  trouble  you  to  stand,"  he  said  quietly,  "with 
your  hands  up  and  back  toward  me." 

The  man  stared  at  him  wide  eyed  but  at  last  obeyed, 
lifting  his  huge  back  to  its  full  height,  and  Renwick 
ran  an  investigating  hand  over  his  hip  pockets.  They 
were  empty. 

"Thanks,"  he  said  at  last,  "you  may  be  seated." 
He  felt  a  good  deal  of  a  fool  but  he  managed  an  un- 
comfortable laugh  as  he  returned  the  automatic  to 
his  pocket.  "You  see,"  he  explained,  "I  owe  you  an 
apology " 

"Yes,  sir — such  an  outrage  upon  my  dignity.  I 
do  not  understand " 

"Let  me  explain,"  went  on  Renwick,  feeling  more 
idiotic  every  moment;  "I  have  an  enemy  who  seeks  my 
life  and  when  you  put  your  hand  in  your  pocket  I 
thought  that  you " 

"It  is  strange  that  a  gentleman  in  a  railway  car- 
riage may  not  be  permitted  to  blow  his  nose  without 
being  threatened  with  a  pistol,"  he  said  hotly. 

"But  you  will  admit,  my  friend,  that  your  always 
being  next  to  me  in  trains  is  at  least  suspicious." 

"Downer-wetter!  And  why,  for  the  same  reason, 
should  I  not  be  suspicious  of  you?" 

"I  trust  at  least  that  you  have  no  enemies  who  seek 
your  life." 

"Who  knows?"  he  shrugged.  "Every  man  has  ene- 
mies. I  will  thank  you,  sir,  to  keep  your  pistol  in 
your  pocket." 

143 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"Willingly.  And  in  return  I  may  say  that  you  may 
blow  your  nose  as  often  as  you  please." 

"DanJce,"  with  some  irony.  "You  are  very  kind.  I 
suppose,  if  when  reaching  Ujvidek,  I  should  happen  to 
be  going  in  your  direction  you  would  shoot  me  with- 
out further  question." 

"That  would  depend  on  which  direction  you  are 
taking,"  replied  Renwick,  with  a  sense  of  abortive 
humor. 

"I  go  to  Brod — thence  to  Sarajevo " 

"The  devil  you  do !"  cried  Renwick  in  English, 

starting  forward  and  staring  at  the  man.  And  then 
more  calmly  in  German, 

"And  how  are  you  going?" 

The  fellow  paused  and  looked  out  of  the  window 
again.  "As  to  that — I  do  not  know,"  he  said  slowly. 

He  had  resumed  his  air  of  settled  gloom,  the  dignity 
of  which  was  somewhat  marred  by  a  vestige  of  pow- 
dered sugar  upon  his  chin,  but  in  spite  of  the  low  es- 
teem in  which  Renwick  had  held  him,  all  his  former 
suspicions  of  the  creature  rushed  over  him  in  a  mo- 
ment. 

"And  suppose  that  I,  too,  should  be  going  to  Brod 
and  Sarajevo?"  he  asked  brusquely. 

The  stranger  turned  toward  him  a  slow  bovine  gaze 
which  gradually  relaxed  into  the  semblance  of  a  smile. 

"Ach  so,"  he  replied  blandly,  "then  it  is  just  pos- 
sible that  we  may  go  together." 

His  manner  was  sphinxlike  again,  and  the  English- 
man eyed  him  curiously,  feeling  a  strong  desire  to  kick 
him  in  the  shins.  But  luckily  he  refrained,  saying 
coolly. 

"And  what  means  of  transportation  do  you  pro- 
144 


THE  MAN  IN  BLACK 


pose  to  employ?  Of  course  you  know  there  are  no 
trains " 

"Naturlich." 

"Then  how  shall  you  travel?" 

"And  you,  Herr  Shooter,  how  shall  you  go?"  ' 

Renwick  smiled  indulgently. 

"If  I  took  an  automobile " 

"I  should  be  constrained  to  go  with  you." 

"Constrained?" 

"If  you  would  invite  me — or  condescend  to  permit 
me  to  pay  my  share  of  the  expenses." 

The  man's  personality  was  slowly  expanding.  Sec- 
ond class  confectioners  who  venture  on  wild  goose 
chases  were  rare  in  Renwick's  acquaintance.  He  was 
becoming  interesting  as  well  as  elusive,  but  Renwick 
was  in  no  humor  for  further  quibbling. 

"I  regret  that  that  is  impossible.  I  go  on  alone," 
he  said  decisively. 

"Ach,    so,"    said   the   other   sadly.      "That   is    too 

bad "      His   words   trailed   off  into   a  melancholy 

silence  and  he  resumed  his  occupation  of  looking  out 
of  the  window.  The  incident  in  so  far  as  Renwick 
was  concerned,  was  concluded. 

At  least  he  thought  that.  At  Ujvidek,  when  Ren- 
wick, bag  in  hand,  got  down  upon  the  station  plat- 
form, the  stranger  stood  beside  him,  fingering  his  cot- 
ton umbrella  foolishly  and  looking  this  way  and  that. 
But  when  the  Englishman  after  an  inquiry  of  a  loiterer, 
started  in  search  of  a  garage,  he  found  his  fellow 
traveler  at  his  heels,  and  the  frown  which  Renwick 
threw  over  his  shoulder  failed  utterly  to  deter  him  from 
his  purpose — which  clearly  seemed  to  be  that  of  con- 
tinuing his  j  ourney  in  the  Englishman's  company. 

145 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

When  Renwick  reached  the  garage  and  talked  with 
the  proprietor,  a  Hungarian  whose  German  was  al- 
most negligible,  the  man  of  the  cotton  umbrella  aban- 
doned the  doorway  which  he  had  been  darkening  with 
his  shadow,  and  shuffled  forward  awkwardly. 

"If  you  will  permit  me,"  he  said  solemnly.  "I  speak 
the  Hungarian  quite  well.  I  should  be  glad  to  in- 
terpret your  wishes." 

The  man's  impertinence  was  really  admirable.  Ren- 
wick's  desire  to  get  forward  on  his  long  journey  made 
him  impatient  of  obstacles.  He  shrugged. 

"Very  well,  then.  Tell  him  I  must  have  a  ma- 
chine and  chauffeur  to  take  me  to  Sarajevo  by  way  of 
Brod.  I  will  pay  him  handsomely  and  in  advance.  I 
must  travel  today  and  all  night.  I  must  reach  Sarajevo 
in  the  morning." 

"Ach,  so,"  said  the  stranger,  and  Renwick  listened 
to  the  conversation  that  ensued,  endeavoring  by  the 
light  of  his  small  knowledge  of  the  language  to  make 
out  what  was  said.  But  he  was  lost  in  the  maze  of 
consonants. 

In  a  moment  the  interpreter  turned  with  a  smile. 

"It  is  good.  There  is  a  machine.  This  man  will 
drive  'himself.  The  price  is  two  hundred  kroner  and 
the  petrol." 

"Thank  you.  That  is  very  good.  I  must  leave 
within  half  an  hour." 

Renwick  produced  money,  the  sight  of  which  brought 
about  an  amazing  activity  on  the  part  of  the  garage 
man.  Renwick  strolled  to  and  fro  outside,  alternately 
smoking  and  watching  the  preparations  for  departure, 
while  the  melancholy  giant  stood  leaning1  upon  his 
umbrella  in  the  doorway.  What  was  he  waiting  for? 

146 


THE  MAN  IN  BLACK 


Renwick  thought  that  he  had  made  his  intentions  suf- 
ficiently explicit.  At  last,  his  impatience  getting  the 
better  of  him,  he  stopped  before  the  man  with  the 
umbrella. 

"I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you  for  your  kindness. 
But  you  understand?  I  go  on  alone." 

The  man  in  black  regarded  him  blandly. 

"That  is  not  a  part  of  the  arrangement,"  he  said. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"That  I  am  to  go  with  you." 

"I  asked  you,  to  make  no  such  arrangement." 

"It  is  a  pity  that  perhaps  I  misunderstood." 

Renwick  angrily  approached  the  garage  owner  and 
tried  to  make  him  understand,  but  he  only  proceeded 
with  his  work  with  greater  alacrity,  bowing  and  point- 
ing to  the  man  in  the  doorway. 

"You  observe,"  said  the  tall  man,  "that  you  will  only 
complicate  matters?" 

Renwick  glared  at  the  other,  but  he  returned  the 
look  with  an  impudent  composure,  and  Renwick,  in 
fear  of  losing  his  self-control,  at  last  turned  away. 
Nothing  was  to  be  gained  by  this  controversy.  After 
all,  what  difference  did  the  fellow's  presence  make?  As 
a  source  of  danger  he  had  already  proved  himself  a 
negligible  quantity.  So  Renwick  with  an  ill  grace  at 
last  acquiesced,  and  within  an  hour  they  were  on  their 
way,  crossing  the  Danube  and  turning  to  their  right 
along  a  rough  road  by  the  Fruska  mountains. 

The  first  accident  happened  before  the  machine 
reached  Sarengrad,  a  blowout  which  made  another  tire 
a  necessity.  The  second,  a  broken  leaf  of  a  spring, 
which  made  rapid  travel  hazardous.  But  it  was  not 
until  nightfall,  in  the  midst  of  a  desolation  of  plains, 

147 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

that  carburetor  trouble  of  a  most  disturbing  char- 
acter developed.  Renwick  paced  up  and  down,  offer- 
ing advice  and  suggestion  and  then  swearing  in  all  the 
languages  he  knew,  but  the  chauffeur  only  shrugged 
and  sputtered,  while  the  tall  man  gurgled  soothingly. 
An  hour  they  remained  there  when  Renwick's  patience 
became  exhausted,  and  he  gave  way  to  the  suspicion  < 
which  had  for  some  time  obsessed  him,  that  the  pair 
of  them  were  conspiring  to  delay  him  upon  his  way. 

He  came  up  behind  the  tall  man  who  was  bending 
over  the  open  hood  of  the  car,  and  catching  him 
roughly  by  the  elbow,  swung  him  around  and  faced  him 
angrily. 

"I've  had  about  enough  of  this,"  he  said.  "Either 
that  car  moves  in  five  minutes  or  one  of  you  will  be 
hurt." 

He  moved  his  hand  toward  his  pocket  to  draw  his 
weapon  but  his  wrist  was  caught  in  midair  by  a  grip 
of  steel  that  held  Renwick  powerless.  The  Englishman 
was  stronger  than  most  men  of  his  weight  and  made 
a  sharp  struggle  to  get  loose,  but  the  man  in  black 
disarmed  him  as  he  would  have  disarmed  a  child,  and 
calmly  put  the  pistol  into  his  own  pocket.  It  was  not 
until  then  that  his  bulk  had  seemed  so  significant,  and 
the  real  purpose  of  his  presence  been  so  apparent. 
There  was  no  use  in  battling  with  this  melancholy 
Colossus  who  might,  if  he  wished,  break  every  bone 
in  Renwick's  body. 

"Herr  Renwick,  if  it  will  please  you  to  be  reason- 
able," he  said,  releasing  the  Englishman  and  speaking 
as  if  soothing  a  spoiled  child. 

At  the  mention  of  his  name,  Renwick  drew  back  in 
growing  wonder. 

148 


THE  MAN  IN  BLACK 


"Who — who  are  you?"  he  asked. 

"My  name  is  Gustav  Linke,"  he  said  suavely.  "I 
have  been  sent  to  keep  you  from  coming  to  harm. 
You  see" and  he  patted  the  pocket  which  con- 
tained Renwick's  pistol,  "it  is  not  difficult  to  run  into 
danger  when  one  is  always  pulling  one's  pistol  out." 

"Who  sent  you?"  demanded  Renwick  furiously. 

The  man  in  black  coolly  picked  up  his  cotton  um- 
brella which  in  the  struggle  had  fallen  to  the  ground. 

"That   is   not  a  matter  which  need  concern  you." 

"I  insist  upon  knowing  and  in  going  on  to  Brod 
without  delay." 

The  other  merely  shrugged. 

"I  regret  to  say  that  that  is  impossible." 

"Why?" 

"Because  my  instructions  were  to  keep  you  from 
reaching  the  Bosnian  border  until  tomorrow  morn- 
ing" 

"You  are ?" 

"Herr  Gustav  Linke — that  is  all,  Herr  Renwick." 

"An  agent  of " 

"The  agent  of  Providence — let  us  say.  Come.  Be 
reasonable.  I  am  sure  that  the  trifling  disorder  in  the 
carburetor  may  be  corrected.  We  shall  go  on  pres- 
ently. The  night  is  young.  We  shall  reach  Brod 
perhaps  by  daylight.  What  do  you  say?  Shall  we 
be  friends?" 

There  was  nothing  else  to  be  done.  The  disgusted 
Renwick  shrugged  and  got  into  the  tonneau  of  the 
machine,  awaiting  the  pleasure  of  his  captor.  Out  of 
the  chaos  of  his  disappointment  came  the  one  consoling 
thought,  that  whatever  Linke  was,  he  was  not  a  Ger- 
man. 

149 


CHAPTER  XII 

FLIGHT 

I^HE  visions  which  disturbed  Marishka  Strahni 
in  that  dim  borderland  between  sleep  and  wak- 
ing persisted  in  her  dreams.  And  always  Goritz 
predominated — sometimes  smiling,  sometimes  frowning, 
but  always  cold,  sinister  and  calculating.  He  made 
love  to  her  and  spurned  her  by  turns,  threatened  her 
with  the  fate  of  the  Duchess,  whom  she  saw  dead  be- 
fore her  eyes,  the  victim  of  a  shot  in  the  back.  There 
was  a  smoking  pistol  in  Marishka's  hand,  and  another 
figure  lying  near,  which  wore  the  uniform  of  an  Aus- 
trian general — the  Archduke  Franz  it  seemed,  until  she 
moved  to  one  side  and  saw  that  the  figure  had  the  face 
of  Hugh  Renwick.  She  started  up  from  her  couch,  a 

scream  on  her  lips — calling  to  Hugh !     Was  she 

awake  or  was  this  another  dream,  more  dreadful  than 
the  last?  There  followed  a  conflict  of  bewildering 
noises,  as  though  night  had  mercifully  fallen  upon  a 
chaos  of  disaster.  She  sat  up  and  looked  around  her. 
A  train. 

She  gasped  a  sigh  of  relief  as  her  gaze  pierced 
the  dimness  of  the  elusive  shadows.  She  remembered 
now.  Captain  Goritz.  But  she  was  still  alone.  She 
lay  down  again,  trying  to  keep  awake  in  dread  of 
the  visions,  but  exhaustion  conquered  again  and  she 
slept,  dreaming  now  of  another  Hugh,  a  tender  and 

150 


FLIGHT 

chivalrous  lover  who  held  her  in  his  arms  and  whis- 
pered of  roses. 

It  was  daylight  when  she  awoke.  Captain  Goritz 
was  now  sitting  by  the  window  smiling  at  her.  She 
started  up  drowsily,  fingering  at  her  hair. 

"You  have  slept  well,  Countess?"  he  asked  cheer- 
fully and  without  waiting  for  her  reply.  "It  is  well. 
You  have  probably  a  trying  day  before  you." 

Marishka  straightened  and  looked  out  of  the  win- 
dow past  him  at  the  sunlit  morning.  Could  it  be  pos- 
sible that  this  alert  pleasant  person  was  the  Nemesis 
of  her  dreams?  The  world  had  taken  on  a  new  com- 
plexion, washed  clean  of  terrors  by  the  pure  dews  of 
the  night. 

"Thanks,  Herr  Hauptmann,"  she  smiled  at  him.  "I 
am  quite  myself  again." 

"That  is  fortunate,"  he  said.  "We  are  nearly  at 
our  journey's  end — at  least  this  part  of  it.  Our  train 
goes  no  further  than  Marburg." 

"And  then?" 

"An  automobile — a  long  journey." 

"I  am  quite  ready." 

At  Marburg  they  got  down,  and  after  Marishka 
had  made  a  hurried  toilet,  they  breakfasted  in  com- 
fort at  the  Bahnhof  restaurant.  If  Captain  Goritz 
nourished  any  suspicion  that  they  were  being  followed 
he  gave  no  sign  of  it,  and  after  breakfast,  to  Ma- 
rishka's  surprise,  Karl  the  chauffeur  appeared  miracu- 
lously and  announced  that  their  car  was  awaiting 
them. 

"If  I  were  not  sure  that  you  were  Herr  Lieutenant 
von  Arnstorf,"  laughed  Marishka,  "I  should  say  you 
were  the  fairy  of  the  magic  carpet." 

151 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"The  magic  carpet — acli,  yes — if  we  but  had  one!" 
he  said  genuinely. 

The  motion  of  the  automobile  sopthed  and  satisfied 
her.  At  least  she  was  doing  what  she  could  to  reach 
Sarajevo  before  the  archducal  party  arrived,  and  as 
her  companion  hopefully  assured  her,  with  a  fair  chance 
of  success.  If  Marishka  could  see  Sophie  Chotek,  all 
her  troubles  would  be  over,  for  then  the  Wilhelmstrasse 
would  not  care  to  oppose  the  dictum  of  the  Duchess 
in  favor  of  one  who  whatever  her  political  sins  in 
Germany's  eyes,  had  made  endless  sacrifices  to  atone. 

If  Marishka  succeeded!     But  if  she  failed? 

The  morning  was  too  wonderful  for  thoughts  of 
grim  deeds  or  the  authors  of  them.  The  poisons  dis- 
tilled in  her  mind  the  night  before  were  dispelled  into 
the  clear  air  of  the  mountainside,  over  which  singing 
streams  gushed  joyously  down.  Birds  were  calling — 
mating;  wild  creatures  scampered  playfully  in  thicket 
and  hedge;  and  the  peaceful  valleys  were  redolent  of 
sweet  odors. 

In  the  long  hours  of  the  afternoon  Marishka's 
thoughts  were  of  Hugh  Renwick.  Perspective  had 
given  him  a  finer  contour,  for  she  had  Goritz  to  com- 
pare him  with.  She  loved  Hugh.  She  knew  now  how 
much.  Her  happiness  had  been  too  sweet  to  have  had 
such  a  sudden  ending.  She  had  been  unkind — cruel — 
broken  with  him  even  when  he  was  bending  every  effort 
to  aid  her.  He  was  trying  to  help  her  now  for  all 
that  she  knew.  .  .  .  She  had  written  him  a  note  from 
the  German  Embassy — just  a  few  lines  which  she  had 
enclosed  with  the  message  to  her  maid  at  the  apart- 
ment— warning  him  that  he  was  in  danger  and  pray- 
ing that  he  leave  the  country  and  return  to  England, 

152 


FLIGHT __^ 

a  kindly  note  which  by  its  anxiety  for  his  safety  con- 
veyed perhaps  more  of  what  was  in  her  heart  than 
she  would  have  cared  to  write  had  she  believed  that 
she  was  to  see  him  again. 

What  reason  had  Captain  Goritz  for  believing  that 
Hugh  would  follow  her  in  this  mad  quest?  How  could 
Hugh  be  sure  where  she  had  gone  and  with  whom? 
There  had  been  a  quality  of  the  miraculous  in  the  judg- 
ment of  Captain  Goritz.  What  if  even  now  Hugh  Ren- 
wick  were  near  her?  Her  pulse  went  a  little  faster. 
Pride — the  pride  which  asks  in  vain — for  a  while  had 
been  dashed  low,  and  she  had  scorned  him  with  her 
eyes,  her  voice,  her  mien,  her  gestures,  all,  alas !  but 

her  heart.     The  women  of  the  house  of  Strahni ! 

Hugh  Renwick  had  kissed  her.  And  the  memory  of 
those  kisses  amid  the  red  roses  of  the  Archduke  was 
with  her  now.  She  felt  them  on  her  lips — the  touch 
of  his  firm  strong  fingers — the  honest  gaze  of  his  gray 
eyes — these  were  the  tokens  she  had  which  came  to  her 
as  evidence  that  the  readings  of  her  heart  had  not 
been  wrong.  A  Serbian  spy !  She  smiled  con- 
fidently. 

In  a  moment  she  stole  a  glance  at  Captain  Goritz, 
who  was  bent  forward  studying  his  road  map.  She 
waited  until  he  gave  directions  to  the  chauffeur  and 
then  spoked 

"Captain  Goritz,"  she  said  carelessly,  "you  manage 
so  cleverly  that  I  am  beginning  to  trust  implicitly  to 
your  guidance  and  knowledge.  But  there  is  one  tiling 
that  puzzles  me.  It  must  be  more  than  a  whim  which 
makes  you  think  that  Herr  Renwick  will  follow  us 
to  Sarajevo.'* 

"Not  us,  Countess,"  he  smiled ;  "I  said  you" 
153 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"But  granting  that  he  would  follow  me — which  I 
doubt — how  could  he  know  where  I  have  gone?" 

Goritz  laughed  easily. 

"He  will  find  a  way." 

Marishka's   face  grew  sober. 

"I  fear  Herr  Renwick's  friendship  cannot  achieve 
miracles.  The  last  he  saw  of  me  was  in  a  hut  in  Bo- 
hemia. What  clew  could  he  have ?  What  pos- 
sible  " 

"Ah,  Countess,"  Goritz  broke  in,  "you  do  not  realize 
as  I  have  done  the  cleverness  of  the  Austrian  Secret 
Service.  We  have  so  far  eluded  them.  We  were  very 
lucky  but  it  cannot  be  long  before  the  green  limousine 
will  be  discovered,  and  the  direction  of  our  journey." 

"But  even  that " 

"To  a  clever  man  like  Herr  Renwick — to  a  man 
whose  affections  are  involved,"  he  added  slowly,  "it 
would  not  be  difficult  to  decide  where  you  have  gone. 
He  knows  the  discomforts  and  dangers  you  have  passed 
through  to  achieve  your  object.  He  will,  of  course, 
seek  your  apartment  and  read  the  meaning  of  your 
sending  for  your  clothing  just  as  easily" — he  paused 
a  moment  and  smiled  at  the  back  of  Karl's  head — "just 
as  easily,"  he  repeated  slowly,  "as  though  you  yourself 
had  written  him  a  note  telling  him — er — exactly  which 
train  you  had  taken." 

/  Marishka  felt  the  warm  color  flooding  her  neck  and 
brows.  In  writing  Renwick  she  had  broken  her  prom- 
ise to  this  man  not  to  communicate  with  her  friends. 
Goritz  watched  her  pretty  distress  for  a  moment  with 
amusement  which  speedily  turned  to  interest. 

"Of  course,  Countess,  you  did  not  write  to  him?" 
he  said,  with  sudden  severity. 

154s 


FLIGHT 

"I  owe  you  an  explanation,  Captain  Goritz "  she 

said  timidly. 

"You  wrote — Countess?"  evincing  the  most  adnuV- 
able  surprise. 

"I  inclosed  a  few  words  in  my  note  to  my  maid — a 
warning  of  danger  and  a  request  that  Herr  Renwick 
leave  at  once  for  England " 

And  as  Goritz  frowned  at  her,  "Surely  there  is  no 
harm  in  that." 

"Your  word  of  honor " 

"I  betrayed  nothing  of  my  whereabouts  or  plans,'* 
she  pleaded. 

"How  can  I  know  that  you  speak  the  truth?" 

"I  swear  it." 

Goritz  shrugged  lightly. 

"It  is,  of  course,  a  woman's  privilege  to  change  her 
mind.  Still,  you  put  me  upon  my  guard.  It  is  unfor- 
tunate. How  can  I  be  sure  that  you  will  not  be  send- 
ing other  notes  without  my  permission  to  the  Europa 
when  we  reach  Sarajevo?" 

"The  Europa ?    I  fail  to  understand." 

"The  Europa  Hotel,"  he  said  with  a  curious  distinct- 
ness, "where  all  English  people  stop,  and  where  of 
course  your  friend  Mr.  Renwick  will  stop." 

Marishka  examined  him  keenly. 

"Your  prescience  pannot  be  infallible." 

"No.  But  Herr  Renwick  will  come  to  Sarajevo,"  he 
repeated  confidently. 

He  was  still  studying  the  road  map  and  she  was 
silent,  thinking.  But  in  a  moment  he  raised  his  head 
and  shrugged  again. 

"Of  course  it  is  nothing  to  me.  As  an  English  sub- 
ject he  has  the  protection  of  his  Ambassador.  Even. 

155 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

if  my  orders  demanded  his  arrest  I  should  be  without 
power  to  carry  them  out." 

"It  is  easier  to  deal  with  the  credulity  of  women," 
she  said  quietly. 

"Countess  Strahni,  you  make  it  very  difficult  for  me 
— doubly  difficult  since  I  have  learned  how  lightly  you 
hold  your  promise." 

"But  confession  absolves " 

"With  me,  perhaps,  because  I  could  refuse  you  noth- 
ing, but  not  with  those  that  have  sent  me." 

"But  why  should  you  be  uneasy  at  the  possibility  of 
Herr  Renwick  following  to  Sarajevo?" 

"I  do  not  relish  the  disturbance  of  my  plans." 

She  smiled  a  little  at  that. 

"I  think  I  should  be  a  little  happier  if  I  knew  just 
what  those  plans  were." 

He  did  not  reply  at  once.  Then  he  went  on  slowly, 
choosing  his  words  with  care. 

"My  sentiments  of  respect  must  by  this  time  have 
told  you  that  no  harm  can  come  to  you.  Last  night 
His  Excellency,  the  German  Ambassador,  informed  me 
that  I  shall  do  a  great  damage  to  the  friendship  be- 
tween your  nation  and  mine,  if  I  presume  to  take  you 
across  the  German  border  without  your  consent.  I 
have  been  much  moved  by  his  advice.  He  has  already 
written  to  the  Wilhelmstrasse  in  your  behalf.  I  can- 
not yet  absolve  you  from  your  promise  since  my  own 
actions  in  Austria  have  been  far  from  conventional. 
Herr  Renwick,  if  he  chooses,  can  make  my  visit  to 
Sarajevo  most  unpleasant.  But  I  see  no  reason,  after 
our  purpose  has  been  achieved,  why  you  should  not  be 
restored  to  your  friends,  even  to  Herr  Renwick,  if  that 
is  your  desire,"  and  then  in  a  lower  tone,  "I  can  as- 

156 


FLIGHT 

sure  you,  Countess  Strahni,  that  I  relinquish  you  to 
him  with  an  ill  grace." 

"Herr  Renwick  is  no  Serbian  spy,  Captain  Goritz," 
she  said  steadily. 

He  smiled. 

"Oh,  you  do  not  believe  me.  Very  well.  You  will 
discover  it  for  yourself.'* 

"How?"  she  asked  timidly. 

He  looked  at  her  with  every  mark  of  admiration,  but 
his  reply  did  not  answer  her  question. 

"Herr  Renwick  is  indeed  fortunate  in  having  so 
loyal  a  friend — even  though,  as  you  say,  there  is  noth- 
ing between  you  in  common.  I  envy  him  the  posses- 
sion. I  hope  that  he  may  better  deserve  it." 

She  smiled  but  did  not  speak  for  a  moment  and  then, 
"Why  is  it  that  you  so  dislike  a  man  whom  you  do  not 
know — whom  you — you  have  never  seen?'* 

Goritz  bent  forward  toward  her,  his  voice  lowered 
while  his  strange  dark  eyes  gazed  full  into 
hers: 

"Need  I  tell  you?"  he  whispered.  "You  have  thought 
me  cruel,  because  I  have  done  my  duty,  heartless — 
cold — a  mere  piece  of  official  machinery  which  could 
balk  at  nothing — even  the  destruction  of  a  woman's 
happiness — because  my  allegiance  to  my  country  was 
greater  than  any  personal  consideration.  But  I  am 
not  insensible  to  the  appeals  of  gentleness,  not  blind 
to  beauty  nor  deaf  to  music,  Countess  Strahni,  as  you 
have  thought.  Beneath  the  exterior  which  may  have 
seemed  forbidding  to  you,  I  am  only  human.  Last 
night  I  took  advantage  of  your  weariness  and  weak- 
ness in  telling  you,  with  cruel  bluntness,  of  Herr  Ren- 
wick's  relations  with  the  Serbian  government.  I  learned 

157 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

what  you  have  labored  to  conceal — that  you  care  for 
him — that  you  care  for  one  who " 

"It  is  not  true,"  she  broke  in  calmly.  "I  do  not 
care  for  Herr  Renwick." 

"It  would  delight  me  to  believe  you,"  he  went  on 
with  a  shake  of  the  head,  "but  I  cannot.  It  has  been 
very  painful  to  me  to  see  you  suffer,  for  whatever  you 
have  done  in  a  mistaken  sense  of  loyalty  to  your  coun- 
try, nothing  can  alter  the  fact  of  your  innocence,  your 
virtue,  and  your  dependence  upon  my  kindness  in  a 
most  trying  situation.  I  have  told  you  the  facts  about 
Herr  Renwick  because  I  have  believed  it  my  duty,  to 
you  and  to  Austria.  If  I  have  hurt  you,  Countess 
Strahni,"  he  finished  gently,  "I  pray  that  you  will 
forgive  me.'* 

Marishka  was  silent,  now  looking  straight  before  her 
down  the  mountain  road  which  they  were  descending 
slowly.  The  voice  of  Captain  Goritz  had  a  sonorous 
quality  which  could  not  have  been  unpleasant  to  the 
ears  of  any  woman.  She  listened  to  it  soberly,  trying 
to  detect  the  tinkle  of  the  spurious,  but  she  was  forced 
to  admit  that  beyond  and  behind  the  mere  phrases 
which  might  in  themselves  ir^an  nothing,  there  was  a 
depth  of  earnestness  that  mi^u  have  proved  bewilder- 
ing to  one  less  versed  in  the  ways  of  the  world  than 
herself.  His  eyes,  singularly  clear  and  luminous,  domi- 
nated and  held  her  judgment  of  him  in  abeyance.  For 
the  moment  she  was  able  to  forget  her  terrors  of  the 
night  before,  his  enmity  for  Hugh  Renwick,  and  the 
threat  he  had  hung  over  her  freedom.  She  did  not 
dare  to  trust  him.  Too  much  still  hung  in  the  balance 
of  her  favor  or  disfavor.  And  yet  she  was  forced 
to  admit  the  constraint  of  his  fervor,  his  kindness  and 

158 


FLIGHT       

courteous  consideration.  A  woman  forgives  much  to 
those  who  acknowledge  without  question  the  scepter  of 
her  femininity. 

At  last  she  turned  toward  him  with  a  smile  and 
gave  him  her  hand.  Nor  did  she  withdraw  it  when 
bending  low  he  pressed  it  gently  to  his  lips.  This  was 
a  game  that  two  could  play  at. 

"We  are  to  be  friends,  then?"  he  asked  quietly. 

"Of  course,"  she  smiled  at  him. 

Toward  six  of  the  afternoon  a  trifling  mishap  to 
the  motor  delayed  them  for  two  hours,  and  it  was 
long  after  midnight  before  they  reached  Brod  and 
learned  that  the  train  of  the  Archduke  had  left  within 
the  hour.  This  was  a  terrible  disappointment,  which 
seemed  to  menace  the  success  of  their  venture.  But 
Captain  Goritz  determined  to  go  on  as  rapidly  as  pos- 
sible, trusting  to  reach  their  destination  before  the 
royal  party  left  its  train,  hoping  that  the  sight  of 
Countess  Strahni  by  the  Duchess  would  be  sufficient  to 
let  down  any  official  barriers  which  might  be  interposed. 
But  an  unforeseen  difficulty  at  Brod  still  further  de- 
layed them,  a  difficulty  which  required  all  of  the  in- 
genuity of  Captain  Goritz  to  get  them  once  more  upon 
their  way.  It  was  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when 
having  made  some  necessary  repairs  to  the  machine, 
they  reached  the  Austrian  end  of  the  great  bridge 
across  the  Save.  Here  they  were  halted  by  an  iron 
chain  across  the  bridge  entrance  and  a  police  officer 
who,  it  seemed,  looked  upon  their  night  traveling  with 
suspicion.  Captain  Goritz  protested  indignantly  and 
produced  his  papers,  which  the  officer  inspected  by  the 
dim  light  of  an  ancient  lantern  held  by  a  subordinate. 

"I  am  sorry,"  he  said  firmly,  "but  no  motor  cars 
159 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

are  permitted  to  cross  into  Bosnia  until  tomorrow 
morning." 

"But,  my  friend,"  said  Goritz  with  an  air  of  out- 
raged patience,  "I  am  an  officer  of  the  Third  Regi- 
ment of  the  Fifteenth  Army  Corps  returning  to 
Sarajevo  from  a  leave  of  absence  which  expires  at  nine 
in  the  morning.  It  is  necessary  that  my  party  goes 
through  at  once." 

"I  must  obey  orders,  Herr  Ober  Lieutenant." 

"But  my  papers  are  correct.  They  are  signed,  you 
will  observe,  by  General  von  Hoetzendorf  himself." 

"I  am  sorry,  but  you  cannot  go  through.  If  you 
choose  to  take  up  the  matter  with  my  superior  officer, 
you  will  find  the  Kaserne  in  the  main  street  near  the 
mosque.  I  shall  pass  you  only  upon  his  vise.  That  is 
final.  You  will  please  turn  your  car  and  return  to 
the  village." 

Captain  Goritz  gazed  longingly  along  the  pale  beam 
of  the  motor  lamps  into  the  dark  reaches  of  the  bridge, 
and  then  at  the  shadow  of  the  heavy  chain.  At  last 
with  reluctance  he  gave  the  order  to  turn  back.  There 
seemed  no  doubt  that  the  restriction  was  unusual,  and 
that  the  visit  of  the  Archduke  had  much  to  do  with 
the  obstruction  of  traffic  between  Sarajevo  and  central 
Europe.  The  car  moved  slowly  back  through  the 
darkened  village  in  the  direction  from  which  they  had 
come,  while  Goritz  planned  what  was  better  to  be  done. 
The  nearest  other  crossing  at  Kobas  was  twenty  miles 
away,  over  the  road  by  which  they  had  come,  and  they 
knew  that  the  roads  upon  the  Bosnian  side  of  the  river 
were  mere  cow  tracks.  If  the  officer  at  the  bridge  re- 
fused to  pass  them,  how  were  they  to  be  certain  that 
they  would  fare  any  better  at  the  hands  of  his  su- 

160 


FLIGHT 

perior,  probably  a  crusty  village  official  who  would  not 
relish  being  awakened  in  the  small  hours  of  the  morn- 
ing even  by  a  belated  army  officer?  At  the  order  of 
Captain  Goritz,  the  chauffeur  Karl  backed  the  car  into 
a  meadow  and  put  out  the  lights.  Then  Goritz  lighted 
a  cigarette  and  smoked  rapidly. 

"Brod  is   Serbian  for  ford.     Is  the  passage  above 
the  bridge  or  below?" 

"Below,  Herr  Hauptmann,  but   dangerous   at   this 
season.     I  should  not  risk  it." 

"Ah,  I  see."    He  paused  a  moment,  thinking  rapidly. 
"Is  there  a  chain  at  the  other  end  of  the  bridge?" 
"I  have  never  seen  one,  Herr  Hauptmann." 
"Very  good.     You  will  await  me  here." 
And  without  further  words  he  got  down  and  dis- 
appeared into  the  darkness.     Marishka  sat  trembling 
with  uncertainty,  trying  to  pierce  the  obscurity  in  the 
direction  in  which  her  companion  had  gone.     Silence, 
except  for  the  droning  of  the  insects  and  the  distant 
rushing  of  the  river.    Fifteen,  twenty  minutes  in  which 
Marishka  sat  tensely  waiting,  hoping,  fearing  she  knew 
not  what,  and  then  silently,  merely  a  darker  shadow 
of   the   night   itself,    a   figure    appeared    and   silently 
mounted  into  the  seat  beside  the  waiting  Karl. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

TRAGEDY 

SHE  heard  a  few  phrases  pass  between  them  and 
then,  without  lights,  the  machine  suddenly  moved 
forward.  The  explosions  of  the  engine,  muffled 
though  they  were,  seemed  like  rifle  shots  to  ears  newly 
accustomed  to  the  silences  of  the  night.  But  the  speed 
of  the  motor  increased  rapidly,  and  she  felt  the  damp 
of  the  river  fog  brushing  her  cheek.  She  could  see 
nothing  though  she  peered  into  the  blackness  eagerly. 
The  car  was  rushing  to  destruction  for  all  that  she 
knew,  yet  Karl  was  driving  straight  and  hard  for  the 
entrance  of  the  bridge.  Marishka  saw  the  dim  gleam 
of  a  lantern,  heard  a  hoarse  shout,  and  then  the  sound 
of  shots  lost  in  the  crashing  of  the  timbers  of  the 
bridge  as  they  thundered  over,  the  throttle  wide,  past 
the  bridge  house  at  Bosna-Brod  upon  the  other  side 
of  the  river,  and  on  without  pause  through  the  village 
into  the  open  road  beyond.  All  this  in  darkness,  which 
had  made  the  venture  the  more  terrible. 

It  was  with  relief  that  she  heard  the  light  laugh 
and  even  tones  of  Captain  Goritz. 

"That  is  well  done,  Karl.  Your  eyes  are  better 
than  mine.  But  I  have  no  humor  for  a  bath  in  the 
Bosna,  so  we  will  have  the  lights,  if  you  please." 

"They  will  follow  us  ?"  stammered  Marishka. 

"There  is  a  greater  danger  of  detention  at  Dervent 
162 


TRAGEDY 

or  Duboj,  but  I'm  hoping  the  bridge-tender  may  keep 
silent.  It  was  stupid  of  him  not  to  guard  the  chain." 

"You  lowered  it ?" 

"It  made  a  fearful  racket,  but  the  roar  of  the  river 
helped." 

A  little  further  down  the  road,  at  a  signal,  Karl 
brought  the  car  to  a  stop  and  silenced  the  engine,  while 
Goritz  got  down  into  the  road  and  listened  intently, 
striking  a  match  meanwhile  and  looking  at  the  dial  of 
his  watch.  There  were  no  sounds  in  the  direction  from 
which  they  had  come  but  the  distant  roar  of  the  river 
and  the  whispering  of  the  wind  in  the  trees. 

"It  is  half-past  three,  Karl.  How  far  have  we 
to  go?" 

"More  than  two  hundred  kilos — two  hundred  and 
fifty  perhaps." 

"Ah,  so  much?"  and  he  frowned.  "I  wish  to  reach 
the  capital  by  eight  o'clock,  Karl,"  he  said. 

"Zw  befehl,  Herr  Hauptmann — if  it  is  in  the  ma- 
chine. I  can  at  least  try." 

As  Goritz  got  in  beside  Marishka,  he  started  the 
engine,  and  they  were  off  again.  As  a  sign  that 
at  least  the  chauffeur  was  trying  to  carry  out  his 
orders,  in  a  moment  they  were  rushing  along  at  a 
furious  pace  which  seemed  to  threaten  destruction  to 
them  all.  In  spite  of  an  impending  storm  which  had 
now,  fortunately,  passed,  at  Brod  Karl  had  lowered 
the  top  of  the  car  in  order  to  make  better  speed  in 
the  final  race  for  their  goal,  and  the  rush  of  wind 
seemed  to  make  breathing  difficult,  but  Marishka  clung 
to  the  bracket  at  her  side,  trying  to  keep  her  balance 
as  they  swung  around  the  curves,  and  silently  praying. 
Conversation  was  impossible  until  the  road  rose  from 

163 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

the  plains  of  the  Save  into  the  mountains,  where  the 
speed  was  necessarily  diminished.  The  car,  fortunately, 
seemed  to  be  a  good  one,  for  no  machine  unless  well 
proven  could  long1  stand  the  strain  of  such  work  as 
Karl  was  giving  it  to  do.  Through  Dervent  they  went 
at  full  speed,  seeing  no  lights  or  human  beings.  Be- 
yond Duboj  the  moon  came  out,  and  this  made  Karl's 
problems  less  difficult,  though  the  road  wound  danger- 
ously along  the  ravines  of  the  Brod  river,  which  tum- 
bled from  cleft  to  cleft,  sometimes  a  silver  thread  and 
again  a  ragged  cataract  hundreds  of  feet  below.  There 
were  no  retaining  walls,  and  here  and  there  as  they 
turned  sudden  and  unexpected  corners  it  almost  seemed 
to  Marishka  that  the  rear  wheels  of  the  machine  swirled 
out  into  space.  She  held  her  breath  and  closed  her 
eyes  from  time  to  time,  expecting  the  car  to  lose  its 
equilibrium  and  go  whirling  over  and  over  into  the 
echoing  gorge  below  them,  the  depth  of  which  the 
shadow  of  the  mountains  opposite  mercifully  hid  from 
view.  But  Karl  had  no  time  in  which  to  consider  the 
thoughts  of  his  passengers.  He  had  his  orders.  If 
achievement  were  in  the  metal  he  intended  to  carry 
them  out.  The  feudal  castles  of  old  Bosnia  passed 
in  stately  review,  Maglaj,  Usora,  clinging  leech-like 
to  their  inaccessible  peaks,  grim  sentinels  of  the  vista 
of  years,  frowning  at  the  roaring  engine  of  modernity 
which  sent  its  echoes  mocking  at  their  lonely  dignity. 
Marishka  could  look,  but  not  for  long,  for  in  a  mo- 
ment would  come  the  terrible  down-grade  and  the  white, 
leaping  road  before  them,  which  held  her  eyes  with 
fearful  hypnotism.  Death!  What  right  had  she  to 
pray  for  her  own  safety,  when  her  own  lips  had  con- 
demned Sophie  Chotek?  There  was  still  a  chance  that 

164 


TRAGEDY 

she  would  reach  Sarajevo  in  time.  She  had  no  thought 
of  sleep.  Weary  as  she  was,  the  imminence  of  disaster 
at  first  fascinated — then  enthralled  her.  She  was  drunk 
with  excitement,  crying  out  she  knew  not  what  in  ad- 
miration of  Karl's  skill,  her  fingers  in  imagination  with 
his  upon  the  wheel,  her  gaze,  like  his,  keen  and  unerr- 
ing upon  the  road. 

Beside  her  Captain  Goritz  sat  silently,  smiling  as  he 
watched  her. 

"It  is  wonderful,  is  it  not?"  he  said  in  a  lull,  when 
the  machine  coasted  down  a  straight  piece  of  road. 
"Fear  is  the  master  passion  of  life.  Even  I,  Countess, 
am  in  love  with  fear."  And  then  with  a  laugh,  "We 
shall  arrive  in  time  if  the  tires  hold.  It  is  a  good  ma- 
chine, a  very  good  machine." 

Dawn  stole  slowly  across  the  heavens  between  the 
mountain  peaks,  an  opal  dawn,  pale  and  luminous. 
Here  and  there  objects  defined  themselves  against  the 
velvety  surfaces  of  the  hills,  a  hut  by  the  river  brink, 
a  thread  of  smoke  rising  straight  in  the  still  air,  a 
herdsman  driving  his  flock  in  a  path  across  the  valley. 
But  Karl,  the  chauffeur,  drove  madly  on,  more  madly, 
it  seemed,  as  the  light  grew  better.  People  appeared 
as  if  by  magic  upon  the  road,  with  loaded  vehicles  bound 
to  market — awe-stricken  peasants,  who  leaped  aside 
and  then  turned  wondering. 

The  machine  climbed  a  mountain  from  which  a  vista 
of  many  miles  of  country  was  spread  out  before  them, 
but  there  was  no  sign  of  their  destination.  Half-past 

eight — nine !  The  roads  became  crowded  again, 

with  vehicles,  horsemen,  footmen,  and  groups  of  sol- 
diers, all  traveling  in  the  same  direction.  Sarajevo  was 
not  far  distant  but  they  went  at  a  snail's  pace,  their 

165 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

nerves  leaping  in  the  reaction.  Marishka,  pallid  with 
fatigue,  sat  leaning  forward  in  her  seat,  dumb  with 
anxiety.  Goritz  rubbed  his  chin  thoughtfully.  But 
he  had  not  yet  begun  to  despair.  Suddenly  the  car 
came  to  a  turning  in  the  road,  and  the  Bosnian  capital 
was  spread  out  at  their  feet.  Goritz  looked  at  his 
watch.  It  was  nearly  ten.  If  the  thing  they  dreaded 
had  not  yet  come  to  pass  there  might  still  be  time.  As 
they  descended  the  hill  into  the  valley  of  the  Miljacka, 
it  was  apparent  that  the  town  was  in  holiday  attire. 
Flags  floated  from  many  poles,  and  the  streets  and 
bridges  were  crowded  with  people.  At  the  direction  of 
Captain  Goritz,  Karl  drove  quickly  to  the  railroad  sta- 
tion, where  a  group  of  officials  stood  gesturing  and 
talking  excitedly. 

"Has  His  Highness  gone  into  the  city?"  asked  Goritz 
of  the  man  nearest  him. 

The  fellow  paused  and  turned  at  the  sight  of  the 
Austrian  uniform. 

"Ah,  Herr  Lieutenant — you  have  not  heard  ?" 

"I  have  just  come  down  from  the  hills.  What  is 
the  matter?" 

"A  bomb  has  been  thrown  into  the  automobile  of 
the  Archduke " 

"He  is  killed?"  asked  Goritz,  while  Marishka  leaned 
forward  in  horror. 

"Fortunately,  no.  He  cast  the  bomb  into  the  street, 
but  it  exploded  under  the  vehicle  of  his  escort,  killing 
several,  they  say." 

"She  is  safe — Her  Highness  is  safe?"  questioned 
Marishka. 

"Yes,  but  it  was  a  narrow  escape,"  said  another  man. 

"Where  is  the  Archduke  now?"  asked  Goritz. 
166 


TRAGEDY 

"At  the  Rathaus — where  he  is  to  receive  a  testi- 
monial from  the  Burgomaster,  in  behalf  of  the  city. 
From  there  they  go  to  the  Governor's  palace,  I 
think." 

"Thanks,"  said  Goritz  with  a  gasp  of  relief,  and 
gave  the  word  to  Karl  to  drive  on  toward  the  center 
of  the  town. 

"  'Forewarned  is  forearmed,* "  he  muttered  to  Ma- 
rishka.  "They  may  not  dare  to  attempt  it  again.  I 
think  you  need  have  no  further  anxiety,  Countess." 

"But  I  must  reach  Her  Highness.  I  must  let  her 
know  everything." 

"We  shall  try."  And  then  to  Karl,  "Go  as  far  as 
you  can  into  the  town,  to  Franz  Josef  Street. 

But  at  the  tobacco  factory  the  crowd  was  so  great 
that  they  could  not  go  on,  and  Goritz  after  some  di- 
rections to  Karl,  helped  Marishka  down,  and  they  went 
forward  through  the  crowd  afoot,  listening  to  its  ex- 
cited comments. 

"Cabrinobitch " 

"A  Serbian,  they  say.     The  police  seized  him." 

"I  was  as  near  to  him  as  you  are.  Stovan  Kovacevik 
was  hit  by  a  piece  of  the  bomb.  They  have  taken  him 
to  the  hospital." 

"Colonel  Merizzi — they  say  he  is  dead.  And  Count 
von  Waldeck  badly  wounded." 

Marishka  shuddered.  She  had  known  them  both  at 
Konopisht.  She  caught  Captain  Goritz  by  the  arm 
and  forced  her  way  to  the  Stadt  Park,  following  the 
crowd  of  people  and  at  last  reaching  Franz  Josef 
Street,  which  was  filled  almost  solidly  with  an  excited, 
gesticulating  mass  of  humanity. 

"A  Serbian  plot !"  they  heard  a  man  in  a  turban  say 
167 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

in  polyglot  German.  "Not  Serbian  nor  Bosnian.  We 
have  no  murderers  here.'* 

"So  say  I,"  cried  another.  "They  will  blame  it  upon 
us.  Where  are  the  police,  that  tLe  streets  are  not  even 
cleared." 

"Why  does  he  come  here  to  make  trouble?  We  do 
not  love  him,  but  we  are  an  orderly  people.  Let  him 
fee  gone." 

"He  was  at  least  brave.  They  say  after  the  bomb 
was  thrown  into  his  machine  he  threw  it  into  the 
street.'* 

"Brave !  Yes.  But  he  is  a  soldier.  Why  shouldn't 
he  be  brave?" 

"Courage  may  not  save  him.  There  is  something 
back  of  this.  A  man  told  me  there  was  a  bomb  thrower 
on  every  street  corner." 

Marishka  pushed  forward  shuddering,  with  Captain 
Goritz  close  behind  her. 

"I  cannot  believe  it,"  she  whispered. 

"The  ravings  of  a  crowd,"  he  muttered.  "It  matters 
nothing." 

But  as  they  neared  the  corner  of  Rudolfstrasse, 
there  was  a  stir  and  a  murmur  as  all  heads  turned  to 
look  up  the  street  in  the  direction  of  the  Carsija. 

"He  comes  again."  "The  machine  is  returning  from 
the  Rathaus."  The  word  flew  from  lip  to  lip  with  the 
speed  of  the  wind.  A  few  Austrian  soldiers  were  rid- 
ing down  the  street  clearing  the  way.  They  were  all. 
No  police,  no  other  soldiers.  It  was  horrible.  The 
sides  of  the  machine  were  utterly  unprotected  from  the 
people,  who  closed  in  upon  it,  almost  brushing  its 
wheels.  Marishka  pressed  forward  again,  jostled  this 
way  and  that,  until  she  stood  upon  the  very  fringe  of 

168 


'Be  quiet.     People  are  watching  you,"  said  Goritz  sternly. 


the  crowd  at  the  corner  of  the  street.  Captain  Goritz 
held  her  by  the  elbow.  What  purpose  was  in  her  mind 
he  could  not  know.  But  every  nerve  in  her — every  im- 
pulse urged  her  to  go  forward  to  the  very  doors  of 
the  machine  and  protect  Sophie  Chotek,  if  necessary 
with  her  own  body,  against  the  dangers  which,  as  the 
people  about  her  said,  lurked  on  every  corner.  The 
machine  approached  very  slowly.  There  was  no  cheer- 
ing, and  it  seemed  strange  to  Marishka  that  there  could 
be  no  joy  in  the  hearts  of  these  people  at  the  courage 
of  their  Heir  Presumptive,  who  had  faced  death  bravely, 
and  now  with  more  hardihood  than  prudence  was  fac- 
ing it  again.  The  car  was  open,  and  she  could  see 
the  figures  of  the  royal  pair  quite  clearly,  their  faces 
very  pale,  the  Archduke  leaning  forward  talking  with 
a  man  in  uniform  in  the  front  seat  opposite  him,  the 
Duchess  scanning  the  crowd  anxiously.  As  the  ma- 
chine stopped  again  at  the  street  corner,  Marishka 
rushed  forward  until  she  stood  just  at  its  front  wheels, 
waving  a  hand  and  speaking  the  Duchess's  name.  She 
saw  the  gaze  of  Sophie  Chotek  meet  hers,  waver  and 
then  become  fixed  again  in  wonder,  in  sudden  recogni- 
tion, and  incomprehension.  Words  formed  on  the  girl's 
lips  and  she  called, 

"It  is  I — Marishka  Strahni,  Duchess — I  must 
speak '* 

She  got  no  further.  Out  of  the  mass  of  people 
just  at  her  elbow  the  figure  of  a  man  emerging,  sprang 
upon  the  running  board  of  the  machine.  He  seemed  to 
wave  his  hand,  and  then  there  were  sounds  of  shots. 
The  Archduke  started  up,  holding  a  protecting  arm 
before  the  body  of  the  Duchess,  who  had  sunk  back 
into  her  seat,  her  hand  to  her  breast.  The  Archduke 

169 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

wavered  a  moment  and  then  fell  forward  across  the 
knees  of  the  Duchess. 

Of  the  mad  moments  which  followed,  Marishka  was 
barely  conscious.  She  was  pushed  roughly  back  into 
the  turgid  crowd  and  would  have  fallen  had  not  an  arm 
sustained  her.  Men  seized  the  assassin  and  hurried 
him  away.  There  were  hoarse  shouts,  glimpses  of 
soldiers,  as  the  machine  of  death  pushed  its  way  through 
the  mass  of  people,  and  always  the  strong  arm  sus- 
tained her,  pushing  her,  leading  her  away  into  a  street 
where  there  were  fewer  people  and  less  noise. 

"Come,  Countess,  be  brave,"  Goritz  was  saying.  "God 
knows  you  have  done  what  you  could.'* 

"It  is  horrible,"  she  gasped  brokenly.  "A  moment 
sooner,  perhaps,  and  I  should  have  succeeded.  She 
recognized  me — you  saw?" 

He  nodded.  "Kismet!  It  was  written,"  he  said 
grimly. 

"But  someone  must  pay — someone — who  was ?" 

"A  Bosnian  student — named  Prinzep — a  man  said." 

"He  was  but  a  boy — a  frail  boy " 

"He  has  been  well  taught  to  shoot,"  muttered  Goritz. 

"Death !"  she  cried  hysterically.     "And  I " 

"Be  quiet.  People  are  watching  you,"  said  Goritz 
sternly.  "Lean  on  my  arm  and  go  where  I  shall  lead. 
It  is  not  far." 

The  sight  of  strange,  distorted  faces  regarding  her 
gave  Marishka  the  strength  to  obey.  Mechanically  her 
feet  moved,  but  the  sunlight  blinded  her.  She  passed 
through  a  maze  of  small  streets  lined  with  market  stalls 
where  groups  of  people  shouted  excitedly;  and  dimly 
as  in  a  dream  she  heard  their  comments. 

"The  police — we  have  police — where  were  they  ?  The 
170 


TRAGEDY 


Government  will  be  blaming  us.  We  are  not  murderers ! 
No.  It  is  a  shame !" 

Marishka  shuddered  and  leaned  more  heavily  upon 
the  arm  of  her  companion.  She  was  weary  unto  death, 
body  and  spirit — but  still  her  feet  moved  on,  out  of 
the  maze  of  small  alleys  into  a  larger  alley,  where  her 
companion  stopped  before  a  blue  wooden  gate  let  into 
a  stone  wall.  He  put  his  hand  upon  the  latch,  the 
gate  yielded,  and  they  entered  a  small  garden  with  well 
ordered  walks  and  a  fountain,  beside  which  was  a  stone 
bench.  Upon  this  bench  at  the  bidding  of  Captain 
Goritz  she  sank,  burying  her  face  in  her  hands,  while 
he  went  toward  the  house,  which  had  its  length  at 
one  side  of  the  garden.  She  put  her  fingers  before 
her  eyes  trying  to  shut  out  the  horrors  she  had  wit- 
nessed, but  they  persisted,  ugly  and  sinister.  Over 
and  over  in  her  mind  dinned  the  hoarse  murmur  of  the 
crowd,  "We  are  not  murderers !  No !"  Who 

then ?      Not   the   frail  student   with  the   smoking 

pistol  .  .  .  the  agent  of  others.  .  .  .  The  eyes  of 
Sophie  Chotek  haunted  her — eyes  that  had  looked  so 
often  into  her  own  with  kindness.  She  had  seen  ter- 
ror in  them,  and  then — the  mad  turmoil,  the  dust,  the 
acrid  smell  of  powder  fumes,  and  the  silent  group  of 
huddled  figures  in  the  machine !  .  .  . 

There  were  sounds  of  voices  and  of  footsteps  ap- 
proaching, but  Marishka  could  not  move.  She  was 
prone,  inert,  helpless. 

"She  is  very  tired,"  someone  said. 

"AcTi — she  must  come  within  and  sleep.'* 

A  woman's  voice,  it  seemed,  deep  but  not  unsympa- 
thetic. 

"A  glass  of  wine  perhaps — and  food." 
171 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"It  shall  be  as  you  desire,  Excellency.  I  know  what 
she  needs." 

Arms  raised  her,  and  she  felt  herself  half  led,  half 
carried,  into  the  house  and  laid  upon  a  bed  in  a  room 
upstairs.  It  was  dark  within  and  there  was  a  strange 
odor  of  spices.  Presently  someone,  the  woman,  it 
seemed,  gave  her  something  to  drink,  and  after  awhile 
the  turmoil  in  her  head  grew  less — and  she  slept. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  HARIM 

DREAMS,  colorful  and  strangely  vivid,  but  not 
unpleasant.  It  seemed  that  Marishka  lay  upon 
a  couch  so  soft  that  she  sank  deliciously  with- 
out end  to  perfect  rest.  Above,  about,  below  her,  per- 
fumed darkness,  spangled  with  soft  spots  of  light,  which 
came  and  went  curiously.  She  tried  to  fix  her  gaze 
upon  one  of  them,  but  it  was  extinguished  immediately 
and  appeared  elsewhere.  She  found  another — and  an- 
other, but  they  fled  from  her  like  ignes  fatui.  She  heard 
the  whir  of  a  machine,  fast  and  then  slow  again,  near 
and  then  at  a  distance.  Was  it  an  automobile  or  an 
aeroplane?  The  notion  of  an  automobile  speeding  in 
space  was  incongruous,  the  milky  way — a  queer  con- 
cept! She  smiled  in  her  dreams.  .  .  .  Then  suddenly 
a  bright  sunlight  peopled  with  strange  figures  in  fez 
and  turban,  faces  that  leered  at  her,  lips  that  howled 
in  excitement,  arms  that  moved  threateningly,  dust, 
noise,  commotion,  from  which  she  was  trying  in  vain 
to  escape.  .  .  .  And  then  darkness  again  and  the  sub- 
dued murmur  of  voices,  one  voice  familiar,  one  gruff 
and  unfamiliar. 

"Ten  thousand  kroner — that  is  a  large  sum,"  said 
the  gruff  voice. 

"Yours,  Effendi,  if  the  thing  is  accomplished." 
173 


"It  should  not  be  difficult.  You  may  reply  upon 
me." 

"And  you  are  to  show  the  lady  every  attention — 
every  comfort " 

"Zu  befehl " 

There  was  a  recurrence  of  the  changing  lights  and 
the  voices  receded.  Presently  she  seemed  to  hear  them 
again. 

"She  is  to  be  kept  in  seclusion  of  course,  but  other- 
wise you  will  accede  to  all  her  requests — all,  you  under- 
stand   Should  she  care  to  write — you  will  send  a 

message.  There  are  more  ways  than  one  to  kill  a 
goose.  And  this  one  lays  the  golden  egg,  Effendi " 

"I  understand — a  golden  egg." 

"Very  good — perhaps  tonight We  shall  see." 

"I  shall  be  prepared,  Excellency." 

The  voices  died  away  and  melted  into  the  murmur 
of  a  crowd,  which  merged  curiously  into  the  whir  of 
an  automobile.  But  it  was  dark  again  and  the  spots 
of  light  in  the  darkness  reappeared.  One,  two,  three, 
a  dozen  she  counted  and  then  they  vanished.  She  was 
alone,  an  atom  in  the  expanse  of  infinity,  but  the  dark- 
ness and  the  perfume  now  oppressed,  suffocated  her,  and 
she  tried  to  escape.  But  she  moved  her  limbs  with  diffi- 
culty, and  a  weight  sealed  her  eyelids.  She  struggled 
up  against  it  and  managed  to  rise  upon  one  elbow  and 
look  about  her. 

She  was  awake.  Slowly  memory  returned,  the  mem- 
ory of  things  which  seemed  to  have  happened  a  long 
while  before,  and  time  and  distance  seemed  to  have 
robbed  them  of  their  sting.  She  was  awake  and  alone 
in  a  dark  room,  lying  on  a  low  couch,  upon  which  were 
spread  a  number  of  pillows  of  strange  design.  A  lat- 

174 


THE  HARIM 


ticed  window  was  near,  and  outside,  the  shadows  of  a 
tree  branch  fell  across  the  barred  rectangle,  cutting 
the  lines  of  light  into  broken  lozenges  of  shadow.  The 
room  was  furnished  somberly  but  richly  with  heavy 
hangings  and  teakwood  furniture  decorated  with 
mother-of-pearl.  A  lantern  of  curious  design  depended 
from  the  ceiling.  There  was  a  figure  standing  in  the 
corner.  She  raised  herself  upon  one  elbow  and  ex- 
amined the  figure  attentively,  not  frightened  yet,  but 
merely  curious. 

It  was  a  suit  of  ancient  armor  of  a  period  with  which 
she  was  unfamiliar.  She  moved  her  limbs  painfully 
and  sat  up.  Her  head  throbbed  for  a  few  moments 
but  she  found  that  she  was  able  to  think  clearly  again. 
Slowly  she  realized  where  she  was  and  what  had  hap- 
pened. The  blue  door  in  the  wall — this  the  house  that 
ad j  oined  the  garden.  She  had  slept — how  long  she  did 
not  know,  but  the  beams  of  sunlight  were  orange  in 
color  and  made  a  brilliant  arabesque  upon  an  embroid- 
ered hanging  on  the  opposite  wall.  She  must  have  slept 
long.  Her  dreams  returned  to  her,  fleeting  and  elusive, 
like  the  ignes  fatui  which  had  been  a  part  of  them.  The 
whir  of  wheels,  the  vision  of  the  vari-colored  crowd,  the 
murmur  of  voices  speaking — these  too  had  been  a 
dream.  She  tried  to  recall  what  the  voices  had  mur- 
mured. Phrases  came  to  her.  "Ten  thousand  kroner 

— the  goose  that  lays  the  golden  egg "  It  was 

all  like  a  story  from  a  fairy  tale.  She  looked  about 
her — a  dream — of  course.  Who  could  have  been  speak- 
ing of  kr  oners  and  golden  eggs  here? 

There  were  two  doors  to  the  apartment  in  which 
she  lay,  one,  ornate  with  Turkish  fretwork,  which  had 
in  its  center  panel  what  seemed  to  be  a  small  window, 

175 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

covered  by  a  black  grille.  At  the  other  end  of  the 
room  another  door,  open,  from  which  came  a  flicker  of 
cool  light,  the  soft  pad  of  foosteps  and  the  sound  of 
a  voice  humming  some  curious  Oriental  air.  Marishka 
did  not  get  up  at  once,  but  sat  among  the  pillows,  her 
fingers  at  her  temples  as  she  tried  to  collect  her 
thoughts.  She  knew  that  she  must  think.  Everything 
seemed  to  depend  upon  the  clearness  with  which  her 
mind  emerged  from  the  fog  of  dreams.  Slowly,  the 
happenings  of  the  last  few  days  recurred — the  flight, 
the  wild  ride  down  the  ravines  of  the  Brod,  Sarajevo, 
the  tragedy,  the  car  of  Death !  She  put  her  fingers  be- 
fore her  eyes  and  then  straightened  bravely.  And  what 
now?  Goritz!  What  was  he  going  to  do  with  her? 
She  tried  to  judge  the  future  by  the  past.  She  had 
given  herself  unreservedly  into  his  hands  in  the  hope 
of  reaching  Sophie  Chotek  before — before  what  had 
happened.  Their  interests  had  been  identical — the  sav- 
ing of  life — and  if  they  had  succeeded,  there  would 
have  been  no  need  for  anxiety  as  to  her  own  future. 
But  now  the  situation  seemed  to  have  changed.  Failure 
had  marked  her  for  its  own,  an  unbidden  guest  in  a 
strange  country  in  which  she  was  for  the  present  at 
the  mercy  of  her  captor.  She  could  not  forget  that 
she  was  his  prisoner,  and  the  terms  of  her  promise 
to  him  came  to  her  with  startling  clearness.  His  re- 
cantation, his  courtesy,  his  ardent  looks  had  allayed 
suspicion,  but  had  not  quite  removed  the  earlier  im- 
pression. In  this  hour  of  awakening  and  depression 
there  seemed  to  be  room  for  any  dreadful  possibility. 
Was  she  a  prisoner?  If  so,  the  window  was  not 
barred,  and  she  saw  that  it  let  upon  the  tiny  garden 
fifteen  feet  below.  If  she  could  gather  the  strength,  it 

176 


THE  HARIM 


might  not  be  difficult  to  lower  herself  from  the  window 
sill — drop  to  the  garden  and  flee.  But  where?  To 
whom?  She  turned  quickly,  listening  for  the  sounds 
of  the  footsteps  in  the  adj  oining  room,  her  hand  at  her 
breast,  where  her  heart  was  throbbing  with  a  new  hope. 
Hugh!  Hugh  in  Sarajevo  !  And  yet  why  not ?  It  came 
to  her  in  a  throb  of  joyous  pride  that  in  spite  of  all 
that  she  had  done  to  deter  him,  he  had  persisted  in 
helping  and  protecting  her,  oblivious  of  her  denial  of 
him  and  of  her  cutting  disdain.  But  would  the  frail 
clew  of  her  flight  through  Vienna  be  enough  to  point 
her  object  and  destination?  The  memory  of  his  clever- 
ness and  initiative  in  their  night  ride  to  Konopisht 
gave  her  new  hope.  Why  should  he  not  come  to 
Sarajevo?  Between  the  lines  of  the  note  she  had  writ- 
ten him  he  must  have  read  the  tenderness  that  had 
always  been  in  her  heart.  He  was  no  coward,  and  the 
idea  of  fleeing  to  England  when  danger  threatened  her 
would,  of  course,  be  the  last  that  would  come  into  his 
mind.  It  was  curious  that  she  had  not  thought  of  this 
before.  He  would  come  to  Sarajevo  if  he  could — per- 
haps he  was  here  now 

A  heavy  figure  stood  in  the  doorway  regarding  her. 
She  could  not  at  first  decide  whether  it  was  a  man  or 
a  woman  for  the  wide,  baggy  trousers  resembled  a  skirt, 
and  the  short,  sleeveless  jacket  was  similar  to  that  worn 
by  the  male  Moslems  she  had  seen  in  the  Carsija.  But 
in  a  moment,  a  voice  of  rather  low  pitch  spoke  kindly, 
in  atrocious  German. 

"The  Fraulein  is  at  last  awake.  Does  she  feel  bet- 
ter?" 

"Ah,  thanks,  yes,"  said  Marishka,  at  last  deciding 
that  it  was  a  woman.  "I  have  slept  long." 

177 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"Seven  hours  at  least,  and  like  the  dead.  But  you 
must  be  hungry.  I  will  prepare  something  at  once." 

"Thank  you.  And  if  I  could  wash  my  face  and 
hands." 

"It  shall  be  as  you  wish.  If  you  will  but  come  with 
me " 

Marishka  rose,  and  as  she  did  so,  the  door  with  the 
black  grille  opened  from  within,  and  a  girl  came  into 
the  room.  Like  the  older  woman  she  wore  baggy 
trousers  and  slippers,  but  above  the  waist,  typifying 
the  meeting  of  East  and  West,  a  somewhat  soiled  satin 
blouse  which  might  have  been  made  either  in  Paris  or 
Vienna.  The  face  was  very  pretty,  regular  of  feature 
and  oval  in  contour,  but  the  effect  of  its  beauty  was 
marred  by  the  hair  above  it,  which  was  dyed  with  henna 
a  saffron  red.  But  she  wore  a  flower  at  her  breast,  and 
in  spite  of  her  artificialities  exhaled  the  gayety  of 
youth.  She  smiled  very  prettily  and  came  forward 
with  a  confiding  air,  giving  Marishka  her  hand. 

"I  have  been  waiting  for  you  to  wake  up,"  she  said 
in  a  soft  voice.  "I  have  never  known  anyone  to  sleep 
so  soundly." 

She  laughed  like  a  child  who  is  very  much  pleased 
with  a  new  toy,  and  holding  Marishka's  hand,  looked 
at  her  curiously  from  head  to  foot.     There  was  some- 
thing very  genuine  in  her  interest  and  kindliness,  and  | 
Marishka  found  herself  smiling.  ;( 

"I  must  have  been  very  tired,"  she  said. 

"I  am  sorry.     You  are  feeling  better  now?" 

"Yes,  but  very  dirty " 

"Come  with  me.     Zubeydeh  will  bring  food." 

She  led  the  way  through  the  door  of  the  black 
grille,  down  a  short  passage  into  a  large  room  at  the 

178 


THE  HARIM 


end  of  the  house.  The  apartment  was  strewn  with  rugs, 
and  its  furniture  was  a  curious  mixture  of  the  color 
of  the  East  and  the  utility  of  the  West — a  French 
dressing  stand  beside  a  stove  of  American  make,  a 
Bosnian  marriage  chest,  a  table  which  might  have  come 
out  of  the  Ringstrasse,  a  brass  tray  for  burning  char- 
coal, a  carved  teakwood  stand  upon  which  stood  a 
nargileh,  a  box  of  cigars,  some  cigarettes,  and  two  cof- 
fee cups  still  containing  the  residue  of  the  last  draught. 
There  were  latticed  windows  in  meshrebiya,  which  over- 
looked the  garden  and  street,  and  piled  beside  them 
were  a  number  of  pillows  and  cushions.  The  room  was 
none  too  clean,  but  there  were  evidences  here  and  there 
of  desultory  attempts  at  rehabilitation. 

The  girl  with  the  red  hair  led  Marishka  to  one  of 
the  window  recesses,  where  she  bade  her  sit  upon  a 
pile  of  pillows,  bringing  a  basin  and  an  ewer  of  water 
which  she  put  upon  the  rug  beside  her. 

"Ah,  I  was  forgetting,"  said  the  girl,  and  going  to 
the  corner  of  the  room  produced  with  much  pride 
Marishka's  suitcase.  "His  Excellency  left  it  for  you 
this  afternoon." 

The  sight  of  water  and  a  change  of  clothing  did 
much  to  restore  Marishka's  confidence  and  self- 
respect,  and  she  opened  the  bag  with  alacrity,  bring- 
ing forth  from  its  recesses  soap,  clean  linen  and  a 
washcloth. 

While  Marishka  ate  and  drank,  the  girl  with  the  red 
hair  crouched  upon  her  knees  beside  the  suitcase,  sniffed 
at  its  contents  eagerly,  and  with  little  cries  of  delight 
touched  with  her  fingers  the  delicate  articles  which  it 
contained. 

"How  pretty !  How  soft  to  the  touch !"  And  then 
179 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

rather  wistfully,  "It  is  a  pity  that  one  cannot  get  such 
things  in  Bosna-Seraj." 

"You  like  them?"  asked  Marishka,  reveling  in  the  de- 
liglit  of  being  free  from  the  dust  of  her  journey. 

"Oh,  they  are  so  beautiful!'* 

For  all  her  years,  and  she  must  have  been  at  least  as 
old  as  Marishka,  she  had  the  undeveloped  mind  of  a  ' 
child. 

"You,  too,  are  beautiful,"  she  sighed  enviously,  "so 
white,  your  skin  is  so  clear.  Your  hair  is  so  soft." 
And  then  as  an  afterthought,  "But  I  think  it  would 
look  just  as  pretty  if  it  were  red." 

Marishka  laughed. 

"What  is  your  name,  my  dear?"  she  asked. 

"I  am  called  Yeva — they  say  after  the  first  woman 
who  was  born." 

"Eve — of  course.     It  becomes  you  well." 

"You  think  so.     Was  she  very  beautiful?" 

"Yes — the  mother  of  all  women." 

"The  ugly  ones?" 

"Yes.    We  cannot  all  be  beautiful." 

"It  must  be  dreadful  to  be  old  and  ugly  like  Zubey- 
"deh." 

As  Marishka  brought  out  brush  and  comb  and  a 
towel,  Yeva  ran  quickly  and  procured  a  mirror — a 
small  cheap  affair  with  tawdry  tinsel  ornaments. 

"You  will  let  me  brush  your  hair,  Fraulein.  It  will  be 
a  great  privilege." 

"Of  course,  child — if  you  care  to." 

And  while  Yeva  combed  and  brushed,  Marishka  ques- 
tioned and  she  answered.  The  house  in  which  she  lived 
was  near  the  Sirokac  Tor.  Her  lord  and  master  was 
of  the  Begs  of  Rataj,  once  the  rulers  of  a  province  in 

180 


THE  HARIM 


Bosnia,  where  his  father's  fathers  had  lived,  but  now 
shorn  of  his  tithes  and  a  dealer  in  rugs.  He  was  aa 
old  man,  yes,  but  he  was  good  to  her,  giving  her  much 
to  eat  and  drink,  and  many  clothes.  She  must  ask 
him  to  get  some  of  these  pretty  soft  undergarments 
from  Vienna.  And  the  Excellency.  She  had  seen  him 
twice,  some  months  before  through  the  dutap,  when 
he  had  conversed  with  the  Effendi  in  the  adjoining  room. 
And  was  the  beautiful  Fraulein  in  love  with  the  Ex- 
cellency? 

Marishka  answered  her  in  some  sort,  listening  to 
the  girl's  chatter,  meanwhile  thinking  deeply  of  the  plan 
that  had  come  into  her  mind.  Scraps  of  suggestion 
that  she  had  gleaned  from  her  talks  with  Goritz  gave 
her  at  least  a  hope  that  she  might  be  successful  in 
reaching  Hugh  Renwick  by  messenger.  "The  Eng- 
lish always  go  to  the  Europa,"  he  had  said.  There, 
if  Hugh  Renwi,ck  had  come  to  Sarajevo,  was  the 
place  where  a  note  would  find  him.  And  so,  the  hair 
brushing  having  been  successfully  accomplished,  she 
asked  the  girl  if  there  was  someone  by  whom  she  could 
secretly  send  a  note. 

A  message !  To  an  Excellency — a  Plerr  Hauptmann 
— or  perhaps  a  General — yes.  She  was  sure  that  it 
could  be  managed.  She  herself  perhaps  could  take  it. 
Had  not  the  Effendi  told  her  that  the  Fraulein  was 
to  want  for  nothing?  And  greatly  excited  at  the 
thought  of  intrigue,  brought  a  tabourette  which  she 
placed  before  Marishka,  then  found  paper,  ink  and 
envelopes  and  squatted  upon  a  pillow,  watching  eagerly 
over  Marishka's  shoulder.  But  the  girl's  scrutiny 
troubled  Marishka.  Was  she  in  the  confidence  of 
Captain  Goritz?  And  if  not,  could  she  be  persuaded 

181 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

to  hold  her  tongue?     Instead  of  writing  at  once,  Ma- 
rishka  relinquished  the  pen  and  took  Yeva's  hand. 

"It  is  very  necessary  for  my  peace  and  happiness 
that  the  contents  of  this  note  should  be  only  seen  by 
the  person  to  whom  it  is  delivered " 

"Ah,  Fraulein,  it  shall  be  as  you  say.  By  Allah, 
I  swear " 

"Do  you  care  enough?  I  will  give  you  anything  I 
possess  if  you  will  keep  my  secret." 

"Ah !"  her  eyes  were  downcast  and  her  tone  was 
pained.  "That  the  Fraulein  should  not  believe  in  my 
friendship " 

"But  I  do  believe  in  it " 

"Still,"  broke  in  Yeva  smiling  craftily,  "I  should 
very  much  like  to  have  something  by  which  to  remember 
the  Fraulein — the  pink  sleeping  garment  which  is  so 
sweetly  smelling  and  soft  to  the  touch.'* 

"It  is  yours,  Yeva.  See,"  and  Marishka  took  it  from 
the  valise,  "I  give  it  to  you." 

The  girl  gurgled  delightedly,  and  crooned  and  kissed 
the  garment  like  a  child  with  a  new  doll.  She  was  for 
trying  it  on  at  once  and,  thus  for  the  moment  re- 
lieved of  Yeva's  scrutiny,  Marishka  bent  over  the  ta- 
bourette,  pen  in  hand.  But  before  she  wrote  she  called 
Yeva  again. 

"There  is  no  entrance  to  this  house  except  by  the  > 
garden,  Yeva?"  she  asked. 

"Oh,  yes,  to  the  selamlik,  the  mabein  door  and 
this " 

She  walked  to  the  side  of  the  room  and  thrusting  aside 
a  heavy  Kis-Kelim,  showed  Marishka  a  door  cunningly 
concealed  in  an  angle  of  the  wall. 

"That  leads — where?"  Marishka  asked. 
182 


THE  HAEIM 


"To  a  small  court  of  the  next  house." 
"And  the  street  below?" 

Yeva  nodded  and  renewed  the  inspection  of  her  new 
present  in  the  mirror,  so  Marishka  wrote: 

HUGH, 

I  am  a  prisoner  in  a  house  near  the  Sirokac  Tor  beyond 
the  Carsija — a  house  with  a  small  garden  the  gate  of  which 
has  a  blue  door.  I  am  treated  with  every  courtesy,  but  I 
am  frightened.  Come  tonight  at  twelve  to  the  small  court 
at  the  left  of  the  house  and  knock  twice  upon  the  door.  I 
will  come  to  you.  Forgive  me. 

MARISHKA. 

While  Yeva  was  scrutinizing  her  new  adornment  in 
the  small  mirror  Marishka  reread  the  note.  She  did  not 
wish  to  alarm  her  lover  unduly,  for  perhaps  after  all 
there  were  no  need  for  grave  alarm. 

The  intentions  of  Captain  Goritz  were  perhaps  of 
the  best,  his  given  word  to  liberate  her,  to  free  her 
from  her  promise  and  return  her  to  her  friends,  had 
been  spoken  with  an  air  of  sincerity,  which  under  other 
conditions  might  have  been  impressive.  But  some  femi- 
nine instinct  in  her  still  doubted — still  doubted  and 
feared  him.  And  in  spite  of  his  many  kindnesses,  his 
few  moments  of  insensibility  to  her  weariness  and  dis- 
tress there  in  the  motor  in  the  flight  from  Konopisht, 
and  in  the  railway  carriage  when  he  had  spoken  of 
Hugh  Renwick's  connection  with  hated  Serbia — these 
memories  of  their  association  lingered  and  persisted. 
She  feared  him.  The  failure  of  their  mission  would 
perhaps  have  made  a  difference;  and  the  promise  of 
a  man  whose  whole  existence  was  a  living  lie,  was  but 
a  slender  reed  to  hang  upon. 

183 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

She  straightened  abruptly  and  gazed  before  her  in 
sudden  dismay.  Her  word  of  honor — as  a  Strahni! 
She  was  breaking  her  promise — had  already  broken  it. 
For  she  had  pledged  herself  to  Goritz — to  go  with  him 
whither  he  pleased,  if  he  would  enable  her  to  save  the 
life  of  Sophie  Chotek. 

But  he  had  failed !  But  he  had  failed!  She  clutched 
at  the  sophistry  desperately.  Goritz  had  failed.  Un- 
der such  conditions  should  she  consider  her  promise 
binding?  It  had  been  conditional.  Liberty,  there  in 
the  street  below,  just  at  her  elbow,  and  Hugh  Renwick 
within  reach !  She  came  to  this  conclusion  with  des- 
perate speed,  and  quickly  addressed  and  sealed  the 
envelope. 

Yeva,  before  the  mirror,  was  wrapped  in  admira- 
tion of  her  new  possession. 

"Am  I  not  beautiful  in  it,  Fraulein?"  she  was  ask- 
ing as  she  twisted  and  turned,  examining  herself  at 
every  angle. 

"Yes,  Yeva,"  said  Marishka  quietly,  "but  it  is  not  a 
garment  in  which  one  goes  out  upon  the  street." 

"The  street!"  Yeva  laughed  deliciously.  "I  would 
make  a  sensation  in  Bosna-Seraj,  I  can  tell  you,  at- 
tired only  in  this  and  a  yashmak" 

And  then  seeing  the  note  lying  upon  the  tabourette, 
she  came  running  with  little  childish  footsteps.  "Ah, 
you  have  sealed  it!  And  you  are  not  going  to  let  me 
see?" 

"It  is  nothing,  Yeva." 

"But  I  thought "  peevishly. 

"How  can  you  be  interested  in  my  little  affairs? 

"I  hoped  that  he  might  come  and  I  should  see  him 
through  the  dutap." 

184 


THE  HARIM 


"Perhaps  he  may!"  said  Marishka  with  an  inspira- 
tion. "Could  you  be  trusted  to  keep  this  message  a 
secret?  To  tell  no  one?" 

"I  have  already  promised " 

"Not  even  to  Zubeydeh ?" 

"Of  course  not.  Zubeydeh  is  old  and  ugly.  She 
would  not  understand  what  a  young  girl  thinks 
about." 

"And  can  you  go  out  without  her  knowing?" 

"By  the  private  stairway.  Of  course.  There  is  an- 
other door  below,  locked,  but  I  can  procure  a  key." 

"Then  I  too "  Marishka  paused  and  Yeva  turned, 

reading  her  thoughts. 

"Ah,  I  understand.  You  wish  to  go  to  him.  It  is 
a  pity,  but  it  is  impossible." 

"Impossible!    Why?" 

"I  can  do  the  Fraulein  a  favor,  since  she  has  been 
kind  to  me,  but  to  disobey  the  commands  of  my  lord 
and  master — I  would  call  upon  myself  the  curses  of 
Allah." 

Marishka  pondered  for  a  moment.  "The  Effendi  de- 
sires that  I  remain  here?"  she  asked. 

"That  is  his  command,  Fraulein." 

"I  see." 

If  Marishka  had  had  any  doubts  as  to  the  inten- 
tions of  Captain  Goritz,  the  Beg  of  Rataj  had  now  re- 
moved them.  How  much  or  how  little  of  what  the  girl 
revealed  had  been  born  of  innocence  or  how  much  of 
design,  Marishka  could  not  know,  but  it  hardly  seemed 
possible  that  the  child  could  be  meshed  so  deeply  in 
this  intrigue.  Marishka  felt  sure  that  Yeva  had  prom- 
ised to  deliver  her  note,  because  the  situation  amused 
and  interested  her,  as  did  her  visitor,  and  because  of 

185 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

the  pink  garment  Yeva  was  now  so  reluctantly  laying 
aside. 

Marishka  took  another  garment  from  the  valise,  a 
dainty  drapery  of  silk  edged  with  fine  lace,  and  lield 
it  up  temptingly. 

"Yeva,"  she  said. 

"Yes,  Fraulein." 

"This,  too,  is  very  beautiful,  do  you  nc*  think  so?" 

Yeva  sighed  wistfully. 

"Yes.     It  is  very  beautiful." 

"And  would  you  care  to  have  this  too?" 

"Would  I ?  Oh,  Fraulein!  I  cannot  be- 
lieve  " 

Yeva  came  forward  with  arms  outstretched,  brown 
fingers  curling,  but  as  she  was  about  to  touch  the  gar- 
ment Marishka  swept  it  away  and  put  it  behind  her 
back. 

"I  will  give  it  to  you " 

"Yes " 

"If  you  will  take  me  out  with  you  by  the  secret 
door  to  the  Europa  Hotel." 

"Fraulein !"  The  girl  stopped  aghast  and  then  slowly 
turned  away. 

"You  would  have  me  disobey  the  commands  of  my 
lord  and  master?"  she  said  in  an  awed  whisper. 

"I  am  asking  only  my  rights,"  urged  Marishka  des- 
perately. "I  am  an  Austrian  with  many  friends.  I 
have  believed  that  I  was  a  guest  in  this  house,  welcome 
to  come  and  to  go  as  I  choose.  If  the  Effendi  desires 
to  keep  me  against  my  will  he  runs  a  great  risk  of  of- 
fending the  government  of  Austria  and  my  friends." 

"As  to  that  I  do  not  know "  said  Yeva  plain- 
tively. 

186 


"It  will  do  you  no  harm  to  be  my  friend." 

"I  am  your  friend.  But  to  disobey  the  command  of 
one's  lord  and  master " 

"It  is  worse  to  disobey  the  laws  of  Bosnia." 

"But  what  can  I  do?"  asked  the  girl,  helplessly  weav- 
ing her  fingers  to  and  fro. 

"You  need  do  nothing  but  go  out  to  deliver  my  mes- 
sage. Then  you  shall  appear  to  lock  the  door  below, 
but  the  bolt  shall  not  catch.  That  is  all.  When  you 
are  gone  I  shall  follow  into  the  street." 

"And  I  shall  not  see  you — and  your  lover  through 
the  dutap?" 

"You  shall  see  us  there — yonder.     I  promise  you." 

"It  is  a  terrible  thing  that  yoii  ask." 

"Yeva !"  Marishka  held  the  silk  garment  up  before 
the  childish  gaze  of  the  girl.  "Look,  Yeva." 

It  was  enough.  With  a  cry,  Yeva  seized  the  gar- 
ment in  both  hands  and  carried  it  to  her  lips,  kissing 
it  excitedly. 

"And  if  I  do  what  you  ask — you  will  never  tell?" 

"Never." 

Marishka  had  won.  It  was  with  difficulty  that  she 
restrained  her  companion  from  disrobing  again  and 
putting  on  the  new  garment,  but  at  last  by  dint  of 
much  persuasion  she  succeeded  in  getting  Yeva  to  put 
on  her  own  garments,  her  head  dress,  veil  and  yaslimak, 
and  in  a  short  while  they  were  both  attired  for  the 
street.  With  a  last  look  around  the  room,  a  short  vigil 
at  the  dutap  for  sounds  of  watchful  Zubeydeh,  Yeva 
timorously  found  the  key  of  the  lower  door,  pushed 
the  hanging  aside,  and  with  a  last  rapturous  look  at 
the  draperies  upon  the  dressing  stand,  vanished  into 
the  darkness  of  the  door. 

1ST 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

Marishka,  her  heart  beating  high  with  hope,  quicklj 
packed  a  few  of  her  belongings  into  a  small  package 
and  followed.  It  was  very  dark  upon  the  narrow  stair, 
but  with  a  hand  upon  the  wall  to  steady  herself,  she 
slowly  descended.  Feeling  for  the  steps  with  her  feet, 
at  last  she  reached  the  floor  below,  and  stepping  cau- 
tiously forward  came  upon  a  blank  wall.  She  turned 
to  the  left  and  found  her  egress  stopped — to  the  right 
— yes,  there  was  a  door.  She  fingered  for  the  latch  and 
found  it,  opening  the  door,  which  let  in  the  daylight. 
But  just  as  she  was  about  to  step  out,  she  started  back 
in  sudden  consternation.  Upon  the  step,  grim  and 
forbidding,  dressed  in  fez,  white  shirt,  and  wide 
breeches,  stood  a  man  with  folded  arms  facing  her. 
He  made  no  sign  of  greeting,  nor  did  he  change  his 
posture  by  so  much  as  a  millimeter,  but  she  heard  his 
voice  quite  distinctly,  though  he  spoke  in  a  low  tone. 

"You  will  be  pleased  to  return  at  once." 

"But  I "  It  was  the  courage  of  desperation — 

short-lived,  alas ! 

"At  once,"  the  man  repeated,  unfolding  his  arms. 
"At  once — or  shall  I " 

Marishka  waited  no  more  upon  the  order  of  her  go- 
ing but  went  at  once,  finding  her  way  up  the  dusty 
stairs,  terrified,  again  a  prey  to  the  most  agonizing1 
fears. 

Would  Yera  find  Hugh  at  the  Hotel  Europa? 


THE  night  journey  of  Mr.  Renwick  to  the  Bos- 
nian border  with  the  man  in  black  was  one  long 
chapter  of  accidents  and  delays.  But  Herr 
Linke  commanded  the  situation.  He  had  taken  care 
not  to  return  the  Englishman's  weapon,  and  there  was 
nothing  for  Renwick  to  do  but  sit  in  silence  by  the 
side  of  the  melancholy  Colossus,  and  pray  for  an  op- 
portunity which  never  came,  for  Linke  had  a  watch- 
ful eye  and  sat  in  the  tonneau  of  the  machine.  Toward 
midnight  they  reached  Vinkovcze,  where  they  had  sup- 
per, and  resumed  their  leisurely  journey  with  a  new 
supply  of  petrol,  which  only  seemed  to  increase  the 
trouble  in  the  carburetor.  It  was  at  this  time  that 
an  uncontrollable  drowsiness  fell  upon  Renwick.  He 
struggled  against  it  but  at  last  realized  that  in  spite 
of  himself  sleep  was  slowly  overpowering  him.  As  in 
a  haze  he  saw  the  huge  figure  of  Linke  beside  him  lean 
over,  smiling,  while  a  deep  voice  which  seemed  to  come 
from  a  distance  rumbled  calmly, 

"You  are  very  sleepy,  Herr  Renwick?" 

Renwick  dimly  remembered  muttering  a  curse. 

"You've  drugged — cof ' 

Then  Renwick  slept. 

When  he  awoke  it  was  broad  daylight.  The  car 
was  moving  smoothly  enough  along  a  good  road  be- 

189 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

tween  two  mountains,  and  at  the  side  of  the  road  a 
river  flowed  in  the  direction  from  which  the  machine 
had  come. 

Renwick  felt  light-headed  and  rather  ill,  and  it  was 
some  moments  before  he  became  conscious  of  the  fig- 
ure beside  him,  while  he  struggled  upright  and  found 
his  speech. 

"Where  are  we?"  he  asked. 

"Near  Duboj,  Herr  Renwick,  where  we  shall  pres- 
ently eat  our  supper " 

"Supper!" 

» * 


"Yes.     You  have  slept  the  clock  around- 

"Ah,  I  remember,"  and  he  turned  upon  the  man  with 
a  renewed  and  quite  futile  anger.  "You  drugged  me, 
you » 

"Softly,  my  friend,"  the  big  man  broke  in  sooth- 
ingly. "You  can  do  no  good  by  defaming  me." 

Renwick  shrugged.  "You'll  pay  the  score  at  set- 
tling time,  nevertheless." 

"Perhaps.  In  the  meanwhile  I  beg  you  to  consider 
that  you  are  but  fifty  kilometers  from  your  destina- 
tion. Since  we  passed  the  Save  we  have  proceeded 
with  greater  rapidity." 

But  Renwick  had  sunk  into  a  sullen  silence.  The 
huge  creature,  whom  he  had  held  in  such  light  esteem, 
had  made  a  fool  of  him,  had  reduced  him  to  the  im- 
Ipotence  of  a  child.  As  his  mind  cleared,  the  object  of 
the  man's  actions  became  more  involved.  Whatever  he 
was,  he  had  succeeded  in  preventing  Renwick  from 
reaching  Sarajevo  before  the  Archduke's  party  should 
arrive,  but  why  he  should  wish  to  drug  a  man  who 
was  meeting  his  wishes  and  giving  no  trouble  was  more 
than  Renwick  could  answer.  Still  puzzled,  he  glanced 

190 


THE  LIGHTED  WINDOWS 

at  his  watch.  It  was  now  five  o'clock.  The  sight  of 
the  dial  startled  him.  Had  Marishka  succeeded  in 

reaching  the  Duchess  or  had ?  Forgetting  his 

quarrel  with  Linke  in  the  new  interest  in  portending 
events,  he  questioned, 

"You  have  heard  from  Sarajevo?" 

"By  wire  at  Yranduk,"  said  Linke,  nodding  gravely. 
"The  Archduke  Franz  and  the  Duchess  of  Hohenburg 
were  assassinated  this  morning  in  the  streets  of  Sa- 
rajevo." 

Renwick's  knowledge  of  the  plot  and  the  difficulties 
which  surrounded  his  and  Marishka's  efforts  to  pre- 
vent its  consummation  had  convinced  him  that  the  at- 
tempt would  at  least  be  made,  but  Herr  Linke's  bold 
statement  of  the  fact  shocked  him  none  the  less. 

"They  are  dead?" 

"Both,"  said  Linke.  "They  died  before  reaching 
the  Landes  hospital." 

"Who "  Renwick  paused,  aware  that  names 

meant  nothing. 

"A  Serbian  student,  named  Prinzep." 

The  Englishman  said  nothing  more,  for  he  was  again 
thinking  of  Marishka.  She  had  failed!  Had  she  ar- 
rived too  late  or  had  her  visit  to  Sarajevo  been  pre- 
vented? And  if  so  where  was  she  now?  There  was 
nothing  for  it  but  to  go  on  to  the  Europa  Hotel  and 
inquire  for  the  note  that  she  would  leave  there.  In  a 
somewhat  desperate  mood,  he  followed  Herr  Linke 
into  the  small  hotel  at  Duboj,  for  he  knew  that  he  could 
not  go  on  without  food,  having  eaten  nothing  since  the 
day  before.  As  he  hesitated,  the  goulash  upon  the  dish 
before  him,  Linke  smiled. 

"You  need  have  no  further  fear,  Herr  Renwick,"  he 
191 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

said  calmly.  "We  are  now  friends,  engaged  upon  pre- 
cisely the  same  service." 

"Indeed!     And  that ?" 

"To  find  the  Countess  Stranhni  at  the  earliest  pos- 
sible moment." 

"And  after  that?" 

"To  restore  her  to  her  friends." 

"You  know  where  she  is?" 

"No.     But  I  can  find  her." 

It  entered  Renwick's  head  at  the  moment  to  tell  the 
fellow  of  the  note  in  his  pocket,  but  the  events  of  the 
night  had  made  him  careful. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  asked  again. 

But  the  man  evaded. 

"I  beg  that  you  will  eat,  Herr  Renwick,"  he  said 
coolly.  "We  have  no  time  to  spare." 

And  so  at  last,  when  Herr  Linke  ponderously  helped 
himself  and  the  Hungarian  chauffeur  from  the  dish, 
Renwick  followed  his  lead  and  ate. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  they  were  again  upon  their 
way,  reaching  the  hills  above  the  Bosnian  capital  just 
before  nightfall.  Here,  for  some  reason,  the  machine 
again  halted  with  a  loud  explosion  of  back-fire  and 
a  prodigious  amount  of  smoke.  The  chauffeur  got 
out,  looked  into  the  hood  and  straightened,  gesticulat- 
ing wildly.  Herr  Linke  followed,  and  a  conversation 
ensued,  the  import  of  which  was  lost  upon  the  Eng- 
lishman. But  when  it  was  finished,  Linke  turned  to 
Renwick  and  explained  that  the  machinery  was  injured 
beyond  repair  and  that  the  car  could  go  no  further. 
Two  Bosnian  policemen  who  had  appeared  in  the  road 
before  them,  now  rode  up  and  made  inquiries.  Ren- 
wick shrugged  and  was  about  to  walk  away  with  the 

192 


THE  LIGHTED  WINDOWS 

intention  of  finishing  his  journey  afoot,  when  the 
chauffeur  came  forward  and  caught  him  by  the  arm, 
shouting  something  in  an  excited  and  angry  voice,  ap- 
pealing to  the  men  on  horseback  and  pointing  alter- 
nately at  the  Englishman  and  at  the  injured  machine. 
The  Bosnians  got  down  and  listened  while  one  of  them, 
who  seemed  to  understand,  addressed  Renwick  in  Ger- 
man. 

"This  man  says  that  you  engaged  to  pay  for  any 
breakages  to  the  machine,  and  that  you  have  not  paid 
him  all  that  you  owe." 

"He  lies.  I  paid  him  at  Ujvidek.  Herr  Linke  here 

will  bear  me  witness "  As  he  turned  to  address  his 

traveling  companion,  he  paused  in  amazement,  for  with- 
out a  word,  or  a  sound,  Herr  Linke  had  suddenly  van- 
ished into  space. 

But  the  Hungarian  was  screaming  again,  and  what 
he  said  must  have  impressed  the  policeman  who  had 
spoken  to  him,  for  he  turned  to  Renwick,  scratching  his 
head  dubiously,  and  suggested  that  the  matter  be 
further  discussed  before  a  magistrate  in  the  city  below. 
Renwick  agreed,  gave  the  policeman  his  card  with  the 
word  that  he  would  find  him  at  the  Europa  Hotel  and 
leaving  his  suitcase  in  the  car  as  security  for  his  ap- 
pearance when  summoned  went  hurriedly  down  the  hills 
toward  the  city.  The  colloquy  had  occupied  some  mo- 
ments, but  when  Renwick  came  to  a  straight  reach  of 
road  which  led  toward  the  tobacco  factory  buildings  he 
was  surprised  to  find  that  Herr  Linke  was  nowhere  in 
sight.  The  man  was  an  enigma,  a  curious  mixture  of 
desperado  and  buffoon,  but  his  sudden  disappearance 
without  a  word  of  thanks,  apology  or  explanation, 
gave  Renwick  something  to  puzzle^pver  as  he  made  his 

193 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

way  to  the  bridge.  Its  possible  significance  escaped  him 
until  he  had  reached  the  river,  when,  a  thought  sud- 
denly occurring  to  him,  he  put  his  hand  into  the  breast 
pocket  of  his  coat,  feeling  for  the  note  from  Marishka. 
It  was  gone!  He  hunted,  feverishly,  one  pocket  after 
another,  and  was  on  the  point  of  going  back  for  a 
search  of  the  machine  when  the  truth  suddenly  dawned. 
Herr  Linke  had  taken  it  from  him,  last  night  when  he 
slept — had  drugged  him  that  he  might  get  it  without 
commotion!  In  an  illuminating  flash  he  remembered 
the  sharp  look  in  the  man's  eyes  yesterday  morning  in 
the  train  from  Budapest  when  Renwick  had  taken  the 
note  from  his  pocket.  Linke !  He  hurried  his  footsteps, 
bewailing  his  own  simplicity  and  wondering  what  this 
new  phase  of  Herr  Linke's  activities  might  signify. 
Renwick  had  assumed  that  the  Austrian  was  an  agent 
of  Herr  Windt,  who  unable  to  follow  him  on  to  Saraj  evo 
had  guessed  the  train  upon  which  he  had  left  and  had 
sent  this  man  up  from  Budapest  to  get  into  his  car- 
riage. But  his  most  recent  accomplishment  seemed  to 
leave  this  presumption  open  to  doubt.  If  Herr  Linlce 
had  stolen  the  letter  in  the  belief  that  it  contained  secret 
information  which  would  be  of  value  to  Austrian  secret 
service  officials,  the  mere  reading  of  it  would  have  con- 
vinced him  of  its  innocence  in  so  far  as  Marishka  was 
concerned.  And  if  a  forgery!  Perhaps  something  in 
the  message  which  Renwick  had  overlooked  would  put 
him  upon  the  track  of  the  fellow  of  the  green  limousine. 
He  went  along  the  river  bank  from  the  bridge  toward 
the  hotel,  the  location  of  which  was  familiar  to  him, 
hurrying  his  pace.  At  any  rate  the  note  was  gone  and 
with  it  the  mysterious  Linke,  facts  which  clearly  indi- 
cated one  purpose.  Herr  Linke  was  bent  upon  inter- 

194 


THE  LIGHTED  WINDOWS 

cepting  any  message  which  might  come  to  the  Hotel 
Europa  for  the  Englishman.  And  given  that  to  be  his 
purpose,  what  was  his  intention  with  regard  to  the 
Countess  Strahni? 

Still  puzzling  over  the  mysteries,  which  gained  in 
elusiveness  as  he  hurried  into  Franz  Josef  Street,  he 
reached  the  hotel,  which  was  near  the  Carsija,  and  made 
hurried  inquiries  of  the  Turkish  porter,  who  smiled  and 
professed  ignorance,  but  said  to  the  Excellency  that 
he  would  diligently  inquire,  bringing  Renwick  at  last  to 
the  major-domo,  who  informed  him  that  a  note  bearing 
the  name  of  Herr  Renwick  had  been  left  at  the  hotel  an 
hour  before,  but  that  not  twenty  minutes  ago,  Herr 
Renwick  had  called  and  claimed  it. 

"That  is  not  possible,"  said  Renwick  hotly,  "since 
I  am  Herr  Renwick." 

The  major-domo  shrugged  and  bowed  obsequiously. 
It  was  most  unfortunate,  he  said,  but  of  course  as 
Excellency  must  know,  the  Hotel  Europa  was  not  a 
postoffice  and  could  not  be  held  responsible  for  the 
proper  delivery  of  letters  when  it  knew  nothing  of  the 
identity  of  those  to  whom  they  were  addressed. 

Renwick  paused  a  moment,  and  then  said  quickly, 
"To  whom  was  the  note  delivered?  You  saw?" 

"Yes,  Excellency.  The  person  who  said  he  was  Herr 
Renwick  was  tall,  attired  in  black  clothing,  and  carried 
an  umbrella." 

"Who  brought  the  note?" 

"As  to  that — I  do  not  know." 

The  major-domo  moved  majestically  away,  but  the 
Turkish  porter  who  stood  listening,  broke  in. 

"If  your  Excellency  will  permit.  It  was  I  who  re- 
ceived the  note,  late  this  afternoon.  It  was  brought  by 

195 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

a  woman  in  a  yashmak — a  Turkish  woman.  Of  course 
I  could  not  know  her,  since  one  looks  with  averted  eyes 
upon  the  women  of  Islam,  but  she  would  have  come  from 
the  Turkish  quarter  of  the  town — from  beyond  the 
Carsija — perhaps.  I  do  not  know.  I  can  say  no  more." 

Renwick  paused  irresolutely  and  giving  the  man  a 
fee,  went  out  of  the  hotel  into  the  street,  mingling  with 
the  crowds  upon  Franz  Josef  Street,  where  but  a  few 
hours  before  on  a  nearby  corner,  the  Archduke  and 
Duchess  had  met  their  deaths.  Deciding  that  at  all 
hazards  he  must  remain  inconspicuous  while  he  thought 
out  a  plan,  he  crossed  the  river  and  went  into  ,a  small 
park,  where  he  sank  wearily  into  a  bench  and  buried 
himself  in  new  speculations. 

A  pipe  and  tobacco  soothed,  if  they  failed  to  stimu- 
late his  faculties.  He  had  reached  an  impasse.  What 
if  the  Enigma  in  black  were  playing  some  deep  game 
of  his  own  with  regard  to  Marishka?  What  if,  after 
all,  he  was  no  agent  of  Herr  Windt,  but  represented  per- 
haps the  military  party  of  Austria,  which  had  as  deep 
an  interest  in  Marishka's  silence  as  had  the  Wilhelm- 
strasse?  And  yet  such  a  theory  was  hardly  plausible, 
for  if  Linke  were  interested  in  Marishka's  silence  he 
would  also  be  interested  in  Renwick's,  and  this  being 
the  case,  the  easiest  way  out  of  the  business  would  have 
been  to  have  dropped  Renwick  into  some  deep  pool  of 
the  Save  or  the  Bosna  while  he  slept.  Herr  Linke  puz- 
zled Renwick,  but  reason  informed  him  that  the  un- 
known limousine  chap  was  the  greater  menace  both  to 
Marishka  and  himself.  That  he  held  Renwick's  life 
cheaply  was  indicated  by  the  frequent  attempts  upon 
it  in  Vienna  and  in  Bohemia  and  the  mere  fact  that  he 
had  twice  failed  was  no  sign  that  a  third  attempt  might 

196 


THE  LIGHTED  WINDOWS 

not  be  successful.  The  most  unfavorable  phase  of  the 
situation  was  that  the  German  agent  knew  Renwick 
by  sight,  and  would  have  every  opportunity  of  follow- 
ing him  to  some  secluded  spot — shooting  him  in  the  back 
and  escaping  into  a  nearby  street  before  the  excitement 
subsided.  What  did  the  German  agent  look  like?  He 
might  pass  the  fellow,  elbow  to  elbow,  and  the  English- 
man would  not  know  him.  Renwick  had  no  fear  of  meet- 
ing the  man  on  even  terms,  but  the  thought  of  being 
stabbed  in  the  back  or  shot  at  by  any  casual  passer-by 
was  disturbing  to  his  morale.  Every  innocent  bush, 
every  tree  was  an  enemy.  What  did  the  green  limousine 
ehap  look  like  ?  A  Prussian  ?  With  a  bulky  nose,  small 
mustache,  and  no  back  to  his  head?  Or  was  he  small, 
clean  shaven,  and  ferret-like  ?  How  would  he  be  dressed  ? 
In  mufti?  Or  in  some  favoring  disguise  which  might 
better  lend  itself  to  his  purposes? 

Renwick  rose  suddenly  and,  with  a  careful  glance 
about  him,  made  slowly  for  the  Lateimer  Bridge,  sure  at 
least,  that  he  had  not  been  followed,  and  convinced  that 
he  must  equalize  the  hazards  between  this  German  and 
himself  by  playing  the  game  according  to  the  standards 
of  the  Wilhelmstrasse.  So  he  found  his  way  carefully 
into  the  Carsija,  and  found  a  stall  where  he  managed 
to  buy  a  native  Bosnian  costume, — fez,  white  shirt, 
short  jacket,  wide  trousers  fitting  close  below  the  knee, 
sash  and  slippers.  His  automatic  having  been  taken 
by  the  prudent  Linke,  he  was  unarmed,  but  managed 
to  find  a  revolver  of  American  make  and  cartridges 
which  fitted  it.  With  his  newly  acquired  purchases  he 
returned  in  the  darkness  to  the  other  bank  of  the  river, 
where  he  found  a  small  inn  in  the  Bistrick  quarter. 

He  concealed  ten  one  hundred  kroner  notes  in  the  lin- 
197 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

ing  at  the  belt  of  the  trousers,  and  pinned  it  securely. 
The  remainder  of  his  money,  a  few  fifty  crown  notes 
and  coins,  he  put  in  his  pockets  with  his  watch  and 
other  valuables,  and  changed  his  clothing.  When  he 
had  finished  dressing  he  examined  himself  in  a  mirror. 
'  His  face  was  tanned  by  exposure,  and  the  dust  of  the 
journey  which  he  retained  gave  him  a  soiled  appearance 
sufficiently  Oriental.  He  was  now  Stefan  Thomasevic, 
a  seller  of  sheep  and  goats,  which  he  had  brought  to 
the  market.  He  left  his  English  clothing  in  a  bundle 
in  the  care  of  the  innkeeper  and  advising  the  man  that 
he  would  return  later  in  the  night  or  at  least  upon  the 
morrow,  went  forth  across  the  river  again,  with  a  sense 
of  greater  security  from  the  observations  of  any  who 
meant  mischief  to  Hugh  Renwick.  If  he  did  not  know 
what  the  green  limousine  chap  looked  b'ke,  the  limousine 
chap  at  least  could  not  know  him. 

As  he  slouched  through  the  alleys  of  the  Carsija, 
reassured  as  to  the  completeness  of  his  disguise,  he 
smoked  a  native  cigarette,  and  asked  many  questions 
among  the  keepers  of  the  stalls,  squatting  cross-legged 
with  them  upon  the  ground  and  learning  much  of  all 
matters  save  of  the  one  with  which  he  was  most  con- 
cerned. 

"Few  but  Moslem  people  had  passed  through  the 
7  Carsija  upon  this  day,"  they  said,  "for  the  terrible 
happenings  of  the  morning  had  kept  the  Austrian  Ex- 
cellencies in  their  own  part  of  the  town  and  Islam — 
Islam  in  time  of  trouble  was  always  wise  to  find  its 
company  among  its  own  people." 

Renwick's  task  seemed  hopeless,  but  he  did  not  de- 
spair, leaving  the  bazaar  at  last,  and  climbing  the  hill 
to  the  old  town  beyond  the  Bastion.  Here  he  again 

198 


THE  LIGHTED  WINDOWS 

questioned  every  passer-by.  "Had  the  Effendi  seen 
a  tall  Excellency  dressed  in  black  who  carried  an  um- 
brella? He,  Stefan  Thomasevic,  had  sold  the  Excel- 
lency some  sheep  and  goats,  but  the  Excellency  had  not 
yet  paid  all  of  that  which  he  owed.  It  was  not  a  mat- 
ter about  which  to  laugh.  If  the  Excellency  did  not 
soon  appear  in  the  Carsija,  it  was  a  matter  for  the 
police." 

But  no  one  could  help  him.  Herr  Linke  was  moving 
with  discretion,  for  it  was  probable  that  if  such  a  crea- 
ture had  strolled  through  the  Carsija,  there  would  be  a 
dozen  idlers  who  would  have  observed  and  noted  the 
fact.  Renwick's  chief  hopes  were  crumbling.  And  yet, 
if  Linke  suspected  that  the  note  which  had  been  sent 
to  the  Hotel  Europa  was  a  bait,  he  would  of  course  act 
with  great  caution.  It  was  nearly  midnight  when,, 
weary  and  disappointed,  Renwick  returned  from  the 
Kastele  quarter  in  the  direction  of  the  Carsija.  The 
houses  were  dark  save  for  a  glimmer  of  light  in  an  upper 
window  here  and  there,  but  the  moon  had  come  out,  and 
Renwick,  moving  silently  along  in  the  shadow  of  walls; 
and  houses,  gazed  about  him  with  the  eagerness  of 
despair.  For  a  while  he  stopped  in  the  angle  of  a  wall, 
and  listened  to  the  sounds  of  the  city  below  him,  the 
rush  of  the  river  below  the  Bastion,  the  motor  and 
bell  of  the  electric  tram-car,  the  whistle  of  a  freight ; 
locomotive  at  the  further  end  of  the  town — strident  }) 
noises  brought  from  the  West  to  break  the  drowsy  mur- 
mur of  the  Orient,  but  not  a  sight  nor  a  sound  which 
could  give  him  a  clew  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  Linke  or 
Countess  Marishka.  The  inaction  was  maddening.  In 
his  belt  the  American  revolver  hung  its  futile  weight, 
Had  it  not  been  for  Linke,  he  might  have  had  a  chance 

199 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

at  least  to  follow  the  instructions  of  the  note  of  the 
Hotel  Europa  to  some  conclusion  whether  for  good  or 
ill — it  did  not  matter.  If  Marishka  herself  had  writ- 
ten it!  ...  She  would  be  awaiting  him  now — and  he 
could  not  come  to  her.  ...  In  his  stead — Linke  the 
gigantic,  the  mellifluous.  .  .  . 

Renwick  turned  slowly  into  a  side  street,  and 
crouched  in  the  dark  angle  of  a  wall,  for  a  motor  car 
was  coming  toward  him.  Motors  in  the  region  of 
Franz  Josef  Street  and  the  river  were  not  uncommon, 
but  as  a  rule  they  were  seldom  to  be  seen  in  the  hilly 
region  near  the  Bastion.  From  his  dark  vantage  point, 
Renwick  saw  the  car  approach  and  pass  him,  quietly 
coasting,  and  stop  a  short  distance  below  the  angle  of 
the  street  from  which  he  had  emerged.  He  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  profile  of  the  chauffeur,  and  noted  the 
condition  of  the  car.  He  judged  that  it  had  come  a 
long  journey,  for  Sarajevo  and  the  part  of  Bosnia 
through  which  his  own  machine  had  traveled,  had  suf- 
fered much  from  the  drought.  This  machine  was  cov- 
ered with  dust,  of  course,  but  it  was  also  literally 
spattered  with  mud.  The  Englishman  watched  the  ma- 
chine for  a  while,  but  the  chauffeur  having  silenced  the 
engine,  remained  motionless,  in  deep  shadow,  waiting. 
Of  course  belated  visitors  from  the  European  section 
of  the  city  to  the  Kastele  were  a  possibility,  but  the 
quietness  with  which  the  chauffeur  had  approached, 
and  the  eager  way  in  which  he  now  leaned  forward  in 
his  seat  watching  the  meshrebiya  windows  of  a  house 
at  some  distance,  excited  Renwick's  curiosity.  Why 
was  the  man  there?  Who  was  he  watching  in  the 
house  of  the  lighted  window?  Had  this  mystery  any- 
thing in  common  with  his  own?  Renwick  watched  the 

200 


THE  LIGHTED  WINDOWS 

windows  too.  A  light  burned  dimly  within,  and  once 
he  thought  a  shadow  passed.  The  window  and  the 
chauffeur  interested  him,  but  he  was  too  far  away  to 
distinguish  the  house  clearly,  and  so,  moving  stealthily, 
he  stole  quietly  up  the  hill  to  a  cross  street,  and  turn- 
ing to  the  left,  in  the  shadow  of  a  wall,  walked  rapidly 
down  to  a  small  alley  which  he  took  at  random,  at  the 
end  of  which  he  paused  for  observation.  The  house  with 
the  meslirebiya  windows  was  now  just  below  where  he 
stood,  but  opposite  him  was  an  ancient  stone  wall,  and 
in  its  center  was  a  blue  door.  There  were  trees  withiu 
the  enclosure,  and  he  heard  the  sound  of  falling  water. 
He  found  a  dark  doorway  and  crouched  silently, 
watching. 

A  cul-de-sac?  Perhaps.  Disappointment  and  cha- 
grin had  done  their  worst  to  him.  He  would  wait 
and  see  what  was  to  happen,  and  if  nothing  came  of 
the  venture  he  would  merely  have  his  labor  for  his  pains. 
He  noted  above  the  wall  that  there  were  windows  of 
the  house  which  overlooked  the  garden.  In  one  of  them, 
in  the  room  which  the  chauffeur  had  been  observing,  the 
light  still  dimly  burned,  but  he  saw  no  shadows.  Peer- 
ing out  from  the  angle  of  the  alley-way,  he  thought  he 
had  discovered  a  doorway  or  court  between  the  house 
he  was  watching  and  the  one  below  it  toward  the 
Carsija,  and  in  a  moment  fancied  that  he  could  dis- 
tinguish the  sound  of  whispering  voices,  from  that  direc- 
tion; but  the  shadow  of  a  mosque  nearby  threw  its 
shadow  upon  this  part  of  the  street,  and  he  could  see 
nothing  clearly.  If  there  were  men  there,  they  were 
keeping  in  the  shadow  of  the  wall  around  the  turn  of  the 
street,  beyond  the  range  of  Renwick's  vision,  but  the 
night  breeze  which  carried  the  sound  of  the  whispers 

201 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

also  wafted  the  odor  of  a  native  cigarette.  The  smell 
of  it  made  Renwick  wish  to  smoke,  for  the  suspense  and 
inaction  were  telling  upon  him,  but  he  resisted  the  im- 
pulse, sinking  lower  into  the  shadow,  and  awaiting 
events. 

Minutes  passed — hours  they  seemed  to  the  waiting 
Renwick — and  then  came  the  deep  boom  of  a  bell,  which 
echoing  down  the  silent  streets,  seemed  just  at  Reri- 
wick's  elbow — another — another — until  he  counted 
twelve,  of  the  belfry  of  the  cathedral  announcing  mid- 
night. 

He  waited,  thinking  deeply.  The  machine  which  had 
come  a  long  journey?  The  lighted  windows  which  the 
chauffeur  watched?  The  whisper  of  voices  from  the 
street  below  him?  There  was  mystery  here.  He 
crouched  lower  and  watched  the  dark  shadow  of  the 
arch  below  the  house. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  BEG  OF  RATAJ 

*. 

WHEN  Marishka  reached  the  top  of  the  stairs, 
entered  the  Harim,  gazing  terrified  into 
the  darkness  from  which  she  had  emerged, 
she  pushed  aside  the  Kis-Kelim  and  listening  fearfully 
for  sounds  of  footsteps  below,  then  closed  the  door, 
turned  the  key,  and  put  her  back  against  it,  view- 
ing with  a  new  vision  the  interior  which  a  while  ago 
had  seemed  so  friendly.  Without  Yeva  who  had  given 
its  disorder  a  personality,  the  room  seemed  alien, 
hostile  and  madly  chaotic.  For  the  first  time  since 
the  reassurances  of  Captain  Goritz  in  the  green 
limousine  as  to  her  safety,  she  had  a  definite  sense 
of  personal  danger.  She  was  not  timorous  by  na- 
ture, and  the  hope  of  success  in  her  mission  of  atone- 
ment had  given  her  the  courage  for  the  venture.  She 
realized  now  that  the  will  which  had  kept  her  buoyant 
through  two  arduous  days  and  nights  had  suddenly 
forsaken  her  arid  left  her  supine,  without  hope  or  initia- 
tive. The  actions  of  the  man  at  the  doorway  below  had 
frightened  her.  He  had  been  so  uncompromising  in  his 
ugliness.  The  shock  of  her  awakening  had  been  rudely 
unexpected,  and  had  bewildered  her  with  its  brutal  sig- 
nificance. She  was  a  prisoner  in  this  Turkish  house, 
in  an  obscure  quarter  of  a  half  Oriental  town,  and 
night  was  imminent,  a  night  which  seemed  to  possess 
untold  possibilities  for  evil.  What  was  to  happen? 

203 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

Why  had  not  Captain  Goritz  returned  ?  Enemy  though 
she  now  knew  him  to  be,  even  Goritz  was  a  refuge  in 
this  perilous  situation.  And  yet  it  seemed  certain  that 
the  man  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  was  acting  under  his 
orders  or  under  the  orders  of  another  who  was  account- 
able to  him. 

Weakness  overpowered  her  and  she  threw  herself  on 
the  pile  of  cushions  in  the  window  and  buried  her  face 
in  her  hands,  as  if  by  blinding  herself  to  the  imminent 
facts  of  her  surroundings  she  could  free  her  spirit  of 
the  terrors  which  were  overtaking  it.  As  in  her  dream, 
her  faculties  were  elusive,  thoughts  and  half-thoughts 
conflicting  and  interchangeable.  The  rush  and  the 
roar  of  the  hurrying  motor  car,  the  kaleidoscope  of  the 
maddened  crowd,  the  shots,  the  sunlight  and  then  the 
spangled  darkness  with  the  sound  of  voices.  She  started 
upright  in  her  cushions,  her  face  pallid  and  drawn,  her 
thoughts  now  focusing  with  sudden  definiteness.  The 
voices !  They  were  no  dream — no  more  a  dream  than 
the  other  horrors  that  encompassed  her.  She  tried  to  re- 
member what  they  had  said.  "Ten  thousand  kroner — 

the  goose  that  lays  the  golden  egg What  did  the 

phrases  mean?  Another — "To  be  kept  in  seclusion,  of 
course,  but  you  will  accede  to  all  her  wishes."  The 
meaning  of  the  voices  became  clearer,  at  every  moment. 
"Should  she  care  to  write,  you  will  send  a  message !" 
Marishka  put  her  hand  to  her  lips  as  though  to  stifle 
a  cry,  and  then  sank  back  with  a  gasp  of  comprehen- 
sion. Goritz !  He  had  expected  her  to  send  a  message, 
and  had  prepared  for  its  delivery.  But  why?  How 
could  he  have  known!  .  .  .  Slowly  the  meaning  of  it 
all  came  to  her.  His  certainty  and  insistence  as  to 
Hugh  Renwick's  pursuit — the  belief  that  Renwick  would 

204 


THE  BEG  OF  RATAJ 


go  at  once  to  the  Hotel  Europa !  The  power  of  sug- 
gestion!  And  she  had  followed  it  blindly — unawares, 
leading  Hugh  Renwick  into  this  deadly  trap  which 
Goritz  had  laid.  She  read  the  plan  now  in  all  its 
insidious  perfection.  There  was  something  malign — 
hypnotic — in  an  influence  which  could  so  easily  com- 
pel compliance.  And  Hugh?  She  had  written  him  to 
come  here — to  the  door  in  the  court  below,  where  men 
would  be  waiting — perhaps  to  take  his  life.  It  was 
too  horrible ! 

Nature  mercifully  intervened.  The  strain  of  long 
days  and  nights  of  anguish  had  reached  the  limit  of  her 
endurance,  and  her  nerves,  too,  long  under  tension,  sud- 
denly rebelled.  She  sank  helplessly  upon  the  floor,  sobs 
racking  her  body  from  head  to  foot.  She  did  not  know 
how  long  she  lay  there,  but  when  she  raised  her  head 
it  was  already  growing  dark  in  the  room,  like  the 
shadows  that  were  stealing  about  her  heart.  Whichever 
way  she  turned,  groping  mentally  for  a  thought  which 
would  lead  her  toward  a  light,  disorder  reigned,  dan- 
ger threatened.  If  there  was  a  man  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  to  prevent  her  escape,  there  would  be  others  be- 
neath the  windows  and  at  the  door  into  the  garden. 

Yeva!  She  clung  to  the  hope  of  Yeva's  sincerity — 
the  last  thing  left  to  her.  It  was  difficult  for  her  to 
believe  that  this  child  with  the  body  of  a  woman  could 
be  guilty  of  complicity  in  any  plot.  She  might  have 
obeyed  instructions  to  be  the  bearer  of  any  note  that 
Marishka  might  write — indeed  her  childish  prattle  as  to 
the  wishes  of  her  lord  and  master  verified  the  voices 
of  Marishka's  dream,  and  suggested  that  Marishka 
should  be  permitted  to  do  as  she  chose — so  that  Yeva 
had  offered,  without  fear  of  consequences,  to  delirer 

205 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

Marishka's  note  at  the  hotel.  She  had  even  consented 
to  leave  the  lower  door  open  that  Marishka  might  escape 
and  follow  her.  No  woman  of  the  world  could  have 
acted  a  part  as  Yeva  had  played  it.  If  the  girl  had 
known  of  the  guardian  of  the  lower  door,  her  skill  in 
dissimulation  was  consummate — so  much  out  of  keep- 
ing with  the  simplicity  of  her  mind  as  to  be  entirely 
incredible.  Yeva  was  innocent,  a  mere  tool  in  the 
hands  of  Captain  Goritz,  who  disposed  all  the  pawns 
in  his  command  to  play  his  game.  Yeva  had  been  per- 
mitted to  depart  without  hindrance.  Would  Marishka's 
note  reach  its  destination?  Or  would  it  be  intercepted 
and  its  message  read  by  Captain  Goritz?  His  cunning 
had  amazed  her  but  it  frightened  her  now.  A  ruse  so 
carefully  planned  could  have  for  its  object  nothing  less 
than  the  obliteration  of  Hugh  Renwick,  as  a  prisoner  or 
something  worse — perhaps  Death!  She  shuddered. 
She,  Marishka,  would  unwittingly  have  caused  it! 
She  had  asked  him  to  come  at  midnight  and  knock 
upon  the  door  in  the  court  below  and  she  knew  enough 
of  Hugh  to  be  sure  that  if  he  received  the  message,  no 
matter  how  great  the  danger  to  himself,  he  would  come. 
The  note!  If  she  could  recall  it!  She  would  suffer 
whatever  Goritz  had  in  store  for  her,  if  Hugh  could  only 
be  spared.  She  had  already  done  him  hurt  enough — 
without  the  chance  of  this  last  most  dreadful  sacrifice  in 
her  behalf — in  vain.  He  would  come  to  her  and  she 
must  wait — without  the  power  to  warn  him,  and  per- 
haps see  him  killed  before  her  very  eyes. 

Her  thoughts  made  her  desperate — and  the  idea  of 
another  attempt  to  escape  came  into  her  head.  If  she 
could  only  reach  the  street,  she  could  run — and  it  would 
be  a  better  race  with  her  pursuer  than  she  had  given 

206 


THE  BEG  OF  RATAJ 


Hugh  in  the  rose  gardens  of  the  Archduke !  She  made 
the  attempt,  quietly  opening  the  door  by  which  she 
had  entered  the  room  and  passing  on  tip-toe  down 
the  corridor  to  the  door  with  the  dutap.  She  drew  aside 
the  curtain  which  covered  it  and  noiselessly  turned  the 
knob.  As  she  peered  out  she  found  herself  staring 
straight  into  the  eyes  of  Zubeydeh.  The  woman's  look 
was  cold  but  full  of  understanding. 

"Does  the  Fraulein  wish  anything?'*  she  asked  with- 
out the  slightest  change  of  expression.  Her  voice  was 
colorless,  like  the  speech  which  might  be  expected  from 
a  graven  immage. 

"I — I  was  hungry,"  stammered  Marishka  helplessly. 
"I — I  am  sorry  to  bother  you." 

"If  you  will  return  to  the  room  w'thin,  I  will  bring 
food  at  once,"  she  said  stolidly.  And  so  Marishka, 
once  more  balked  in  her  enterprise,  went  back  to  the 
Harim.  Strong  as  she  was,  armed  anew  with  the  sud- 
den strength  of  desperation,  she  knew  that  even  if  she 
could  use  her  strength  she  was  no  match  for 
this  massive  creature  who,  in  the  selamlik  nearby,  per- 
haps had  men  within  call.  She  went  to  the  windows 
and  peered  out  into  the  street.  There  was  no  one  in 
sight,  except  a  tall  man  in  black  who  carried  an  um- 
brella. She  watched  him  a  moment  through  the  carved 
screen,  but  he  went  up  the  street  and  disappeared 
around  a  corner.  The  garden  seemed  to  be  deserted. 
Would  the  gate  to  the  street  be  locked?  She  made  an 
effort  to  move  the  lattice  of  meslirebiya,  but  it  was 
nailed  fast  to  the  main  wood  work  of  the  house.  Her 
case  was  hopeless.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  wait 
upon  the  clemency — the  mercy  of  Captain  Goritz.  A 
new  idea  of  her  captor  was  being  born  in  her,  of  a 

207 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

creature  who  differed  from  the  courteous  German 
official  of  Vienna  and  Agram.  His  eyes  haunted  her,  the 
dark  eyes  set  just  a  little  obliquely  in  his  head,  a  racial 
peculiarity  which  she  had  not  been  able  to  identify. 
She  knew  now.  They  were  Oriental,  like  Zubeydeh's, 
like  those  of  the  man  at  the  door  below,  alien,  hostile 
and  cruel.  And  yet  it  was  curious  how  the  smile  in 
them  had  disarmed  her  and  she  remembered,  with  a  fu- 
tile glow  of  returning  hope,  that  she  had  not  feared  him, 
that  she  had  even  had  the  temerity  to  defy  him.  But 
her  courage  had  ebbed — she  could  not  have  defied  him 
now  and  in  the  darkness  while  she  waited  for  Yeva  she 
feared  him — feared  him. 

It  seemed  strange  that  Yeva  had  not  returned.  She 
had  been  gone  an  hour  or  more  and  the  Hotel  Europa 
could  not  be  a  great  distance  away.  As  the  moments 
passed  she  gave  up  the  other  hope  of  persuading  the 
girl,  when  she  returned,  to  go  back  at  once  to  the  hotel 
and  reclaim  the  note,  before  Hugh  could  get  it.  Could 
anything  have  happened  to  her?  Marishka  wanted  her 
— the  sound  of  a  voice,  the  touch  of  a  feminine  hand,  her 
airs  and  graces — the  foibles  of  a  child  perhaps,  but  in- 
tensely virile  in  their  childishness  and  intensely  human. 
It  seemed  that  even  Yeva  was  to  be  denied  to  her. 

For  when  Zubeydeh  brought  lights  and  food  the 
woman  made  no  comment  upon  the  absence  of  the  girl 
— a  confirmation  of  Marishka's  suspicions  that  Zu- 
beydeh was  aware  of  the  conspiracy  and  what  was 
to  come  of  it.  But  as  Marishka  made  a  pretense  of 
eating  what  the  woman  had  brought,  she  summoned 
courage  to  inquire. 

"Yeva  went  out  into  the  city  by  the  passage  to  the 
street.  She  has  not  yet  returned?" 

208 


THE  BEG  OF  RATAJ 


"I  do  not  know,"  she  said  in  her  heavy  colorless 
voice. 

The  woman  lied.  Marishka  knew  it  by  the  shifting 
glance  of  her  eye. 

"Will  you  kindly  inform  His  Excellency — I  need 
mention  no  names — that  I  should  be  very  glad  if  he 
would  meet  me  at  his  convenience — 

"Excellency  is  not  here,"  said  the  woman. 

"Well,  when  he  comes,  I  should  be  grateful  if  ybu 
will  deliver  my  message." 

"I  will  tell  him." 

Nothing  more.  Her  manner  was  not  discourteous, 
but  her  voice  was  forbidding.  She  had  been  given 
instructions  to  keep  silence.  And  just  before  leaving 
the  room,  a  further  confirmation  of  Marishka's  con- 
viction that  Yeva  was  at  that  very  moment  in  another 
part  of  the  house,  Zubeydeh  gathered  up  the  two  pieces 
of  drapery  which  Marishka  had  given  the  girl,  and 
carried  them  out  of  the  room. 

The  hours  lengthened  while  Marishka  sat  trying  to 
gather  the  remnants  of  her  courage  to  face  Captain 
Goritz  when  he  should  come  to  her.  The  Turkish  lamp 
which  hung  from  the  ceiling  burned  dimly,  casting 
grotesque  shadows  about  the  room,  flickering  in  patches 
of  tawdry  light  upon  the  gilt  of  the  embroidered  hang- 
ings, and  touching  the  blades  of  the  ancient  weapons 
which  decorated  the  wall  about  the  couch,  scimitars, 
swords,  daggers  and  spears !  Marishka  got  up  and  ex- 
amined them  more  closely,  curiously,  as  though  she  had 
not  seen  them  before.  She  shuddered  a  little  as  she 
plucked  from  its  sheath  a  small  dagger  with  a  bronzed 
handle,  and  found  that  its  blade  was  very  sharp  and 
bright.  She  reached  up  to  put  it  back,  but  as  she  did 

209 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

so  there  was  a  sound  from  the  room  beyond  the  pas- 
sage, and  a  knock  upon  the  door.  So  she  slipped  the 
weapon  into  the  waistband  of  her  skirt,  beneath  her 
blouse,  and  went  to  her  seat  among  the  pillows.  In 
a  moment  the  knock  was  repeated,  and  in  reply  to  her 
call,  the  door  opened  and  she  heard  footsteps  along  the 
corridor. 

The  man  who  entered  was  tall  and  slender,  with  a 
hooked  nose,  heavy  brows,  and  a  beard  streaked  with 
white.  He  wore  the  turban  and  bright  green  belt  which 
denoted  the  Moslem,  and  the  fingers  with  which  he 
touched  brow,  lips,  and  heart  in  salutation  were  cov- 
ered with  rings. 

"Saldm  'alaikum,"  he  muttered,  bowing. 

Marishka  knew  no  reply  to  this  and  made  none,  wait- 
ing in  some  trepidation  for  him  to  proceed.  He  was 
a  villainous  looking  creature,  but  comported  himself 
with  an  air  of  some  dignity.  In  a  moment  he  spoke 
again  in  excellent  German. 

"I  hope  that  Excellency  has  been  able  to  make  her- 
self quite  comfortable  in  my  poor  house." 

As  he  spoke,  Marishka  remembered  that  this  was  one 
of  the  voices  of  her  dreams,  the  gruff  voice  which  talked 
with  Goritz. 

Something  was  required  of  her  in  reply,  and  so,  with 
an  effort, 

"Yeva  has  been  very  kind,  Effendi,"  she  managed. 

"Yes.  Allah  has  been  good  to  me.  Yeva  has  a  heart 
of  gold." 

"You  are  the  Beg  of  Rataj  ?"  Marishka  asked. 

He  salaamed  again. 

"Will  you  tell  me,  then,  what  has  become  of  Herr 
Hauptmann  Goritz?" 

210 


THE  BEG  OF  EATAJ 


The  man's  face  wore  a  sudden  crafty  look  of  incom- 
prehension. 

"Goritz,  Excellency?"  he  asked  coolly.  "There  is  no 
one  of  that  name  in  my  acquaintance." 

Marishka  accepted  the  rebuke  and  ventured  timidly, 
"I  mean,  the — the  Excellency — who  brought  me 
here—" 

"Ah !  Lieutenant  von  Arnstorf !  He  has  gone,  I 
think,  upon  a  journey,"  said  the  Beg. 

Marishka  was  silent  a  moment,  thinking. 

"That  is  strange.  It  is  very  necessary  that  I  should 
see  him." 

The  man  smiled  up  at  the  lamp  above  his  head,  re- 
vealing a  void  where  teeth  should  have  been. 

"I  need  not  say  that  he  has  directed  that  everything 
possible  shall  be  done  for  your  comfort — and  it  is  my 
pleasure  to  obey  Excellency's  orders,  in  so  far  as  my 
poor  house  can  afford.  And  even  were  these  not  Excel- 
lency's instructions,"  he  added  with  a  grin,  "it  is  an 
honor  for  the  house  of  Rataj  to  have  beneath  its  roof 
one  so  noble  and  so  beautiful." 

A  wave  of  nerves  swept  over  Marishka,  for  the  ad- 
miration in  his  glance  was  unmistakable,  but  she  knew 
that  any  possible  chance  of  safety  for  Hugh — for  her- 
self— lay  in  the  favor  of  this  man.  And  so  with  a  shud- 
der of  repugnance  which  she  concealed  with  difficulty, 
she  motioned  to  him  to  be  seated.  His  small  eyes 
appraised  her  eagerly  for  a  moment,  and  then  he  sank 
upon  a  cushion  near  her,  and  without  asking  permis- 
sion, took  out  a  cigarette. 

"I — I  shall  not  forget  your  kindness,  Effendi,"  said 
Marishka,  struggling  for  her  composure.  "Already 
Yeva  and  I  are  good  friends." 

211 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"Ah,  that  is  fortunate,  for  it  was  upon  the  question 
of  the  future  of  Yeva  that  I  have  come  to  talk  with 
you."  "In  what  may  I  serve  you,  Effendi?" 

He  sighed  deeply. 

"Times  change,  Excellency.  In  the  days  gone  by, 
the  Begs  of  Rataj  were  reckoned  among  the  rulers  of 
Bosnia,  high  in  the  counsels  of  the  Janissaries,  feudal 
lords  of  great  domains.  But  I,  alas !  the  last  of  the 
Begs  of  Rataj,  whose  father  even  held  the  sway  of  a 
king,  have  been  deprived  of  my  tithes,  and  reduced  to 
the  low  condition  of  a  merchant  in  rugs,  a  dealer  in 
antiquities,  dependent  upon  the  good  will  of  tourists 
from  the  West,  reduced  perhaps  one  day  to  sit  in  a 
stall  in  the  Carsija.  It  is  not  so  much  that  I  am  no 
longer  rich,  but  it  is  my  pride,  the  pride  of  race  which 
suffers  under  misfortune." 

Whither  was  the  man  leading?  Much  as  she  dis- 
trusted him,  her  curiosity  was  aroused,  and  she  listened, 
watching  him  intently. 

"You  will  perhaps  understand,"  he  continued 
gravely,  "that  all  this  is  very  hard  upon  Yeva,  the  star 
of  my  heart,  with  whom  Allah  has  blessed  me.  The  West 
has  flowed  in  upon  the  East  at  Bosna-Seraj,  and  en- 
gulfed it.  We  are  no  more  a  simple  Moslem  city  with 
the  tastes  of  our  fathers ;  and  our  women  are  no  more 
satisfied  to  remain  as  they  were,  childish,  ignorant,  and 
unlettered.  The  spell  of  the  Occident  is  upon  the  land. 
Vienna,  Berlin,  Paris,  have  come  to  Bosna-Seraj.  Our 
women  sigh  for  the  things  which  are  beyond  the  moun- 
tains. The  peace  of  the  home  is  invaded  and  our 
women  are  unhappy,  because  their  lords  and  masters 
have  no  money  to  procure  for  them  the  things  that  they 
wish." 

212 


THE  BEG  OF  RATAJ 


Money !    Thank  God !    This  man  could  be  bought ! 

"And  Yeva?"  Marishka  asked,  trembling  in  fear  for 
the  new  hope  that  had  risen. 

"It  is  the  same  with  her  as  with  the  others,  Excel- 
lency," he  shrugged  despairingly.  "She  is  but  a  child. 
I  have  been  foolishly  liberal  with  her — as  liberal  as  my 
poor  means  allowed,  and  she  has  come  to  know  the  value 
of  money — the  dross  for  which  men  perjure  their  souls, 
and  die  if  need  be.  Yeva,  alas !  wishes  jewels,  the  pretty 
clothing  of  the  women  of  fashion.  And  I,  as  I  have  re- 
lated, being  a  mere  dealer  in  rugs,  Excellency,  have  not 
been  able  to  give  them  to  her.  It  has  made  unhappiness 
come  into  my  household;  it  has  made  me,  the  Beg  of 
Rataj,  hereditary  ruler  of  thousands,  ashamed  to  raise 
my  head  or  my  voice  in  her  presence — I,  Excellency,  her 
lord  and  master!" 

He  wagged  his  head  to  and  fro  with  an  air  which 
might  have  been  comical,  had  not  Marishka's  need  been 
so  desperate.  But  she  read  him  easily,  a  vile,  black- 
mailing rogue  who  held  no  allegiance  higher  than  what 
he  got  from  it — a  man  who,  for  all  his  fine  flow  of 
talk,  could  be  dangerous  as  well  as  unscrupulous.  But 
Marishka  met  him  fairly. 

"I  have  taken  a  fancy  to  Yeva,  Effendi,"  she  said 
quietly.  "She  will  tell  you  perhaps  that  I  have  already 
given  her  several  trifles  which  she  fancied.  Perhaps  I 
can  do  something  to  solve  your  problems.  In  my  own 
country  I  am  considered  wealthy  and  I  can  be  generous 
with  those  who  treat  me  with  kindness." 

"Ah !"  The  Effendi's  eyes  sparkled  hungrily.  The 
Austrian  countess  was  no  fool.  She  had  already  be- 
gun to  understand  him. 

"To  treat  Her  Excellency  with  kindness!  And 
213 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

could  I  do  anything  else?    My  house,  poor  as  it  is — 

"Effendi,"  Marishka  cut  in  boldly,  "let  us  waste  no 
words.  I  am  a  prisoner  in  your  house,  at  the  instance 
of  Captain — of  Herr  Lieutenant  von  Arnstorf " 

"A  prisoner?    Has  not  the  Excellency ?" 

"One  moment.  I  am  not  aware  how  much  you  know 
of  the  political  situation  which  has  brought  me  to 
Bosna-Seraj,  but  I  do  know  that  I  am  confined  here 
against  my  will — a  prisoner  in  a  house  within  the 
realms  of  my  own  country.  Of  course  you  know  that  I 
have  sought  to  escape,  that  I  have  written  to  a  friend 
who  will  do  what  he  can  to  liberate  me." 

"Excellency,  I  beg  of  you ' 

"Please  let  me  finish.  For  political  reasons,  the  fact 
of  my  presence  here  and  my  mission  should  be  kept  a 
secret.  My  friends,  therefore,  would  not  wish  to  call 
upon  General  Potiorek,  the  governor,  for  soldiers  or 
police,  if  my  liberty  can  be  secured  quietly — without 
commotion.  I  am  willing  to  meet  you  upon  any  reason- 
able grounds." 

Marishka  paused,  for  the  man  had  risen  and  was 
pacing  the  floor  slowly. 

"Ah,  Excellency,  I,  too,  will  waste  no  further  speech, 
for  I  see  that  you  are  a  woman  of  the  world,  and  I, 
Beg  of  Rataj,  am  only  a  seller  of  rugs.  But  I  am 
placed  in  a  difficult  position.  It  has  pained  me  deeply 
to  see  you  constrained  to  stay  in  my  poor  house  against 
your  will.  And  yet,  what  would  you?  His  Excellency 
has  done  me  many  favors,  and  gratitude  is  one  of  the 
strongest  traits  in  a  nature  which  suffers  much  misuse. 
I  do  not  know  anything  of  politics,  or  of  the  contro- 
versy between  you,  and  I  have  simply  obeyed  the  dic- 
tates of  my  heart  in  giving  his  Excellency  some  proof — 


THE  BEG  OF  EATAJ 


some  return  of  his  kindnesses  to  me.  But  since  I  have 
seen  you,  heard  your  voice,  felt  the  distinction  of  your 
presence  in  my  poor  house,  I  am  torn  between  my  emo- 
tions— of  gratitude  and  of  pity." 

"How  much  do  you  want?"  said  Marishka  quietly. 

"Excellency,  the  brutality  of  the  words  !" 

"I  mean  them.     How  much?" 

The  man's  keen  eyes  appraised  her  quickly  and  then 
looked  away,  but  he  sank  upon  his  cushion  again,  wag- 
ging his  head  and  breathing  a  deep  sigh  to  measure  his 
humiliation. 

"I  am  but  a  poor  man,  Excellency,"  he  sighed 
again. 

Upon  Marishka's  wrist  was  a  bracelet  set  with, 
diamonds.  She  slipped  it  off  quickly  and  handed  it 
to  him. 

"You  are  a  poor  man,"  she  said.  "I  give  you  this 
— for  Yeva." 

"Ah,  yes.  For  Yeva."  But  his  eyes  were  re- 
garding the  bracelet,  which  he  was  weighing  in  his 
hand. 

"And  if  you  do  what  I  wish,  I  shall  give  you  fifteen 
thousand  kroner  more." 

"Fifteen  thou !"  he  whispered.     "Excellency,  a 

fortune " 

"If  you  do  what  I  wish " 

"Anything — Excellency  has  but  to  speak." 

Marishka  deliberated  a  moment  and  then,  "You  will 
first  remove  the  guard  at  the  foot  of  the  private  stair- 
way to  this " 

"Excellency,  the  hour  is  late.  If  you  can  be  com- 
fortable in  my  house  until  the  morning,  all  shall  be 

arranged.    For  tonight  I  have  planned " 

215 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"No.  It  must  be  as  I  wish.  You  will  also  take  a 
message  addressed  to  Mr.  Hugh  Renwick  at  the  Hotel 
Europa,  and  find  him " 

"And  he  will  give  me  money?"  the  man  broke  in 
quickly,  his  bony  fingers  clutching  like  talons  at  the 
bracelet.  "He  will  give  me  fifteen  thousand 
kroner?" 

Marishka  hesitated.  The  price  she  had  mentioned 
was  cheap  for  her  liberty — for  freedom  from  the  fear 
that  had  all  day  obsessed  her,  but  it  was  a  large  sum, 
and  one  which  it  might  be  impossible  to  procure  at  this 
time  of  night. 

"He  will  give  you  such  assurances  as  you  may  re- 
quire. At  least  he  will  give  you  something.  I  shall 
write  that  I  need  this  sum  of  money,  and  he  will  surely 
do  what  he  can." 

"Something — yes,"  he  mused.  "Something  is,  of 
course,  better  than  nothing  at  all.  But  how  can  I  be 
certain  that  I  shall  see  him?" 

"Ah,  but  you  must,  Effendi.  It  is  necessary  for  you 
to  find  him — and  at  once." 

"But  if  he  should  refuse?" 

"He  will  not.     Do  you  consent?" 

He  salaamed  deeply. 

"Excellency's  wish  is  my  law." 

So  Marishka  sat  before  the  tabourette  and 
wrote : 

I  have  promised  the  bearer  of  this  note  fifteen  thousand 
kroner,  as  the  condition  of  my  liberation.  Give  him  what 
you  can,  and  arrange  for  the  payment  of  the  balance  to- 
morrow. This  is  the  cry  of  desperation.  Do  not  come 
here  or  attempt  to  see  me.  It  is  dangerous.  I  will  come 
to  you.  M. 

216 


THE  BEG  OF  RATAJ 


She  sealed  the  note  and  handed  it  to  him.  He  turned 
it  over  and  over  in  his  fingers,  his  gaze  aslant. 

"But  suppose,"  he  repeated  slowly,  "that  I  should  not 
be  able  to  find  him." 

"You  must,"  she  said  with  desperate  hardihood.  "If 
the  note  should  not  reach  him,  the  conditions  of  our 
agreement  change.  And  be  sure  of  this,  Effendi — if 
harm  comes  to  Hugh  Renwick,  payment  will  be  ex- 
acted from  you  to  the  tenth  part  of  a  hair.  His  safety 
and  my  freedom " 

"I  do  not  comprehend,"  said  the  man,  his  brows 
raised  in  a  well-simulated  surprise.  "What  have  I  to  do 
with  the  safety  of  this  Excellency?  He  can  be  in  no 
danger,  here  in  Bosna-Seraj.  We  are  a  peaceable  peo- 
pie—" 

"Still — "  she  said  distinctly,  "you  will  remember." 

He  shrugged  and  took  a  pace  away  from  her,  still 
fingering  the  note. 

"I  do  not  comprehend,"  he  repeated.  "But  I  will 
do  as  you  request.  I  shall  go  at  once,"  and  he  moved 
toward  the  door,  then  paused.  "As  to  the  guard  at  the 
door  below,  that  will  not  be  necessary,  since  you  will 
await  me  in  the  mabein."  He  went  quickly  down  the 
corridor,  opened  the  door  of  the  dutap,  and  called 
Zubeydeh,  who  entered  at  once.  "The  Countess  will  wait 
in  the  outer  room.  When  I  return  I  shall  conduct 
her  to  the  Hotel  Europa,  where  she  will  spend  the 
night.  You  will  wait  upon  her  in  the  meanwhile, 
as  becomes  a  distinguished  guest  of  the  house  of 
Rataj." 

Then  followed  a  phrase  or  two  of  Turkish,  and  the 
woman  bowed  stolidly. 

"It  shall  be  as  you  wish,  Effendi." 
217 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

And  he  passed  the  woman  with  another  phrase,  and 
was  gone. 

Zubeydeh  and  Marishka  stood  facing  each  other,  the 
elder  woman  in  sullen  antipathy,  illy  concealed  by  the 
habitual  mask  of  imperturbability.  Marishka  had  dis- 
i  liked  her  from  the  first,  actuated  by  that  rare  in- 
stinct which  only  women  can  employ,  and  now  there 
seemed  something  ominous  in  her  stolid  ugliness. 
Marishka  had  not  fully  understood  the  instructions  of 
the  Beg,  and  not  until  Zubeydeh  picked  up  her  suitcase 
and  carried  it  down  the  corridor,  did  she  realize  that 
she  was  merely  carrying  out  the  orders  of  her  master. 
But  Marishka  did  not  move.  Before  her  eyes  danced 
the  words  of  her  earlier  note  to  Hugh,  which  asked 
him  to  come  to  her  by  the  private  passage  to  the  court 
below.  If  the  Effendi  did  not  succeed  in  finding  him, 
he  would  come;  and  she  would  not  be  there  to  meet 
him.  Instead  of  following  Zubeydeh,  who  had  re- 
turned and  stood  staring  at  her,  her  feet  refused  to 
obey. 

"But  I  should  prefer  to  remain  here "  she  said 

firmly. 

A  vestige  of  a  smile — slight,  but  none  the  less  dis- 
agreeable— came  into  the  woman's  yellow  face. 

"The  Harim,"  she  said  dryly,  "is  intended  for  the 
•  daughters  of  the  faithful.  You  cannot  stay  tonight." 

And  as  Marishka  still  stood  irresolutely,  she  caught 
her  by  the  arm  with  a  grip  which  was  none  too  gentle, 
and  pushed  her  down  the  corridor  and  out  into  the 
mabein. 

Marishka  sat  upon  the  couch  in  the  room  into  which 
she  had  first  been  conducted,  her  head  near  the  lat- 
ticed window,  through  which  the  pale  green  moonlight 

218 


THE  BEG  OF  RATAJ 


vied  with  the  glow  from  the  lantern  over  her  head. 
Though  it  could  not  yet  be  time  for  him  to  return,  she 
listened  intently  for  the  sound  of  the  footsteps  of  the 
Beg.  Had  she  succeeded?  In  spite  of  the  danger  which 
threatened  Hugh  Renwick,  and  the  ominous  absence  of 
Captain  Goritz,  she  felt  that  there  was  a  chance  that 
all  might  still  be  well.  Where  was  Captain  Goritz? 
The  tale  that  he  had  gone  upon  a  journey  was  an  in- 
vention, of  course.  He  was  here  in  Sarajevo  if  not  in 
the  house  where  she  was  held  a  prisoner,  at  least  some- 
where near,  where  he  could  be  sure  of  the  culmination 
of  the  plot  to  remove  Hugh  Renwick,  without  himself 
being  involved  in  any  unpleasant  issues.  From  the 
appearance  of  the  Beg  of  Rataj  and  of  the  man  she 
had  met  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  she  knew  that  any 
dreadful  deed  was  possible  in  the  darkness  of  the  se- 
cluded streets  outside  the  house,  in  the  garden  below, 
or  in  the  house  itself.  But  she  did  not  despair.  It  was 
easier  to  win  money  by  keeping  within  the  law  than  by 
breaking  it.  The  Beg  was  a  rogue,  but  money  was  his 
fetish,  and  Marishka's  bribe  was  the  larger. 

As  the  moments  lengthened  and  the  man  did  not  re- 
turn, hope  ebbed,  and  she  grew  anxious.  The  small 
metal  clock  on  the  table  in  the  corner  indicated  the  hour. 
It  was  half-past  eleven.  In  half  an  hour,  if  the  Beg 
had  not  delivered  her  note,  Hugh  Renwick  would  come 
to  find  her,  unless !  She  breathed  a  silent  prayer — un- 
less he  had  not  yet  reached  Sarajevo!  For  hours  she 
had  prayed  that  he  had  followed  her,  for  that  was 
the  proof  of  his  devotion  that  her  heart  required  of  him ; 
but  now  she  prayed  just  as  fervently  that  he  had  not 
come.  The  notion  of  another  attempt  to  escape  oc- 
curred to  her,  but  when  she  got  up  and  peered  down  into 

219 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

the  darkness  of  the  stairway  which  led  below,  her 
courage  failed  her,  and  she  remembered  the  man  at  the 
foot  of  the  other  stair.  Zubeydeh,  too,  was  near,  and 
while  she  was  planning,  the  woman  passed  into  the 
Harim  and  closed  the  door  behind  her. 

She  peered  out  of  the  window  into  the  garden,  search- 
ing its  shadows  for  signs  of  a  guard,  but  all  was  quiet, 
except  for  the  sound  of  whispering  voices,  which  might 
have  come  from  the  street  or  from  the  house  adjoining. 
In  the  dim  light  she  watched  the  hour  hand  of  the 
clock  as  it  slowly  moved  around  the  dial.  Ten,  fifteen 
minutes  passed,  and  still  she  heard  no  sound  of  foot- 
steps. What  if  Hugh  came  while  the  Beg  was  absent 
searching  for  him  ?  She  knew  that  there  must  be  other 
men  besides  the  villain  she  had  met  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs.  What  orders  had  the  Beg  given  his  men?  And 
what  orders  had  he  countermanded?  The  silence  was 
closing  in  upon  her  like  a  fog.  She  could  not  bear  it. 
What  if  Hugh  were  already  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs, 
waiting  to  knock  upon  the  door  of  the  Harim  as  she 
had  directed?  The  suspense  was  killing  her.  She 
rose  quietly  and  tried  the  door  of  the  dutap  into  the 
corridor  which  led  to  the  Harim.  It  was  locked. 

She  staggered  and  clung  to  the  wall  to  keep  from 
falling.  She  saw  it  all  now.  Goritz  had  intercepted 
the  note  she  had  sent  by  Yeva.  They  were  in  there — 
Zubeydeh,  the  Beg  and  his  men,  and  perhaps  Goritz, 
too,  waiting — waiting  for  the  two  knocks  at  the  steps 
below.  And  then  the  door  would,  be  opened,  and 
Hugh 

The  bell  of  the  cathedral  tolled,  and  fearfully  she 
counted  its  strokes.  It  was  twelve  o'clock. 


CHAPTER  XVH 

THE  MAN  IN  ARMOR 

RENWICK  waited  in  his  place  of  conceal- 
ment near  the  blue  door,  listening  and 
watching  eagerly.  Something  was  happen- 
ing in  the  house  with  the  meshrebiya  windows,  for 
it  was  after  midnight,  and  all  Islam  was  asleep. 
There  were  sounds  of  whispering  again,  but  when 
he  peered  out  there  was  no  one  in  sight.  Then 
he  thought  he  heard  footsteps ;  but  whether  they  came 
from  the  direction  of  the  house  of  the  lighted  window, 
or  whether  from  up  the  street  he  could  not  yet  decide. 
Now  he  was  sure  of  them.  Someone  was  approaching 
over  the  rough  cobbles — from  the  alley  behind  him! 
He  crouched  into  a  place  of  concealment  behind  a 
broken  lattice,  flattening  himself  against  the  door,  and 
waited — breathless.  He  did  not  dare  to  look  out,  for 
the  figure  was  almost  upon  him,  but  the  footsteps  now 
silent,  now  moving  rapidly  forward,  indicated  the 
stealth  of  a  man  who  evades  pursuit  or  fears  detec- 
tion. Presently  a  shadow  loomed  beside  him  as  a 
man  paused  for  a  moment  beside  the  doorway  where 
Renwick  stood,  so  close  that  the  Englishman  could  hear 
his  breathing,  and  then  moved  on  to  the  corner  of  the 
wider  street  a  few  feet  away.  Even  yet,  Renwick  feared 
to  move,  but  at  last,  as  the  man  went  on  toward  the 
wall  of  the  blue  door,  Renwick  risked  detection,  and 
peered  out. 

221 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

The  figure  glanced  at  the  blue  door,  and  then  turn- 
ing quickly,  went  with  long  strides  down  the  street 
toward  the  house  with  the  meshrebiya  windows.  Ren- 
wick's  glance  had  been  but  a  momentary  one,  but  in  it 
he  had  marked  a  huge  figure,  in  a  squarish  hat  and 
ill-fitting  clothes.  Gustav  Linke !  In  his  hand,  clutched 
like  a  weapon,  he  still  carried  his  atrocious  umbrella. 
A  grotesque  outlandish  figure,  an  ink-blot  on  the  velvet 
night!  What  was  he  doing  here  near  the  house  of  the 
lighted  windows?  Renwick  sprang  from  his  place  of 
concealment,  whispering  Linke's  name;  but  when  he 
reached  the  corner  of  the  alley  the  man  was  twenty 
paces  away,  and  so  bent  upon  his  mission  that  he  heard 
nothing.  Renwick  halted  instinctively,  and  in  the  mo- 
ment of  hesitation,  his  opportunity  was  lost.  As  wis- 
dom had  urged  caution  while  Renwick  had  waited,  so 
doubly  it  urged  it  now.  Linke  moved  like  a  man  with 
&  mission,  and  Renwick  peered  forth  from  the  angle 
of  the  wall  watching  eagerly,  sure  now  of  what  that 
mission  was — the  pursuit  of  Marishka  Strahni! 

He  saw  the  man  stop  beneath  the  lighted  windows, 
look  up,  and  then  with  a  glance  to  right  and  left,  enter 
the  shadow  of  the  mosque  and  disappear  within  the 
small  court  beside  the  house.  Henwick  thought  rapidly 
and  clearly.  In  the  court  where  Linke  had  disap- 
peared there  must  be  another  entrance  to  the  house. 
For  a  fleeting  second,  the  idea  entered  Renwick's  head 
to  follow  the  man,  and  trust  to  fortune;  but  the 
wall  and  blue  door  opposite  tempted  him.  Inside  the 
garden,  at  least  there  would  be  a  chance  for  conceal- 
ment, and  a  vantage  point  from  which  he  could  watch 
and  hear  what  went  on  within  the  house.  He  waited 
a  moment,  trying  to  decide  whether  or  not  he  had  bet- 

222 


THE  MAN  IN  ARMOR 


ter  risk  detection  in  the  narrow  strip  of  moonlight,  or 
wait  and  see  if  anyone  moved  in  the  street  below.  He 
was  on  the  point  of  taking  the  chance  when  from  the 
door  of  a  house  just  below  him,  several  men  emerged. 
It  was  difficult  to  determine  how  many  there  were,  but 
Renwick  thought  that  there  were  at  least  four — per- 
haps five ;  but  whether  Bosnians  or  Turks  he  could  not 
decide.  And  from  their  stealth  and  silence,  and  the 
rapidity  with  which  they  followed  the  tall  figure  of 
Linke  into  the  dark  passage,  the  obvious  inference  was 
that  they  were  bent  upon  mischief. 

There  was  no  further  time  to  plan,  so  Renwick,  with 
a  quick  look  to  right  and  left,  darted  furtively  across 
to  the  gate  of  the  blue  door  and  tried  the  latch.  It  was 
unlocked,  and  quickly  he  entered  the  garden;  with  his 
hand  upon  the  revolver  in  his  belt  he  waited,  listening, 
but  there  was  no  sound  within  but  the  plashing  of  the 
water  of  the  fountain.  His  eyes  had  grown  accustomed 
to  the  darkness,  and  he  searched  the  shadows  of  the 
bushes  by  the  reflected  moonlight  which  silvered  the 
upper  stories  of  the  building.  He  saw  that  there  was  a 
door  near  the  center  of  the  house  facing  the  fountain, 
and  upstairs  in  the  windows  over  it  was  the  dull  glow  of 
a  lamp  or  lantern.  The  windows  of  the  other  room, 
which  he  had  observed  from  across  the  street,  were  now 
darkened.  This  was  curious,  but  there  was  no  time  to 
debate  upon  it.  He  must  act  quickly.  He  was  sure  now 
that  Marishka  was  somewhere  in  this  house,  a  prisoner. 
She  had  sent  for  him,  or  why  should  Linke  be  here  ?  He 
drew  the  revolver  from  the  folds  of  his  sash,  and  with 
a  keen  glance  to  right  and  left,  crouching  below  the 
level  of  the  shrubbery,  he  reached  the  door  of  the  house 
and  tried  it. 

223 


It  was  locked.  He  hesitated  for  a  moment,  looking 
over  his  sholder,  and  then  slipping  his  weapon  into  his 
belt  again,  he  put  a  foot  into  the  trellis  beside  the  door- 
way and  began  climbing.  It  was  a  dangerous  thing  to 
attempt,  for  as  he  emerged  from  the  shadows  below, 
his  figure  would  be  clearly  outlined  against  the  moon- 
lit wall,  and  a  well  directed  shot  from  the  garden  would 
send  him  clattering  down  like  a  maimed  squirrel  from 
a  tree.  But  the  game  was  worth  the  candle,  for  he  had 
seen  that  the  window  in  the  room  above  the  door  was 
open,  and  as  he  had  decided  to  enter  the  house  at  anj 
cost,  this  was  the  only  way.  But  it  was  slow  work, 
for  the  trellis  was  old,  and  creaked  beneath  his  weight, 
and  once,  when  his  foot  slipped,  he  thought  he  must 
surely  be  discovered.  Then  he  waited,  with  his  fingers 
almost  at  the  window  ledge,  listening.  He  heard  the 
low  murmur  of  voices,  but  they  seemed  to  come  from 
another  part  of  the  building,  and  so  risking  the  whole 
venture  in  one  effort,  he  quickly  raised  his  head  above 
the  level  of  the  window-ledge,  and  peered  in.  At  first 
he  saw  only  the  flickering  shadows  of  a  lamp  hanging 
from  the  ceiling,  and  then  a  figure  in  the  corner  oppo- 
site, which  startled  him  until  he  saw  that  it  was  im- 
movable— a  suit  of  armor  upright  against  the  wall.  The 
room  appeared  to  be  empty,  and  so  he  grasped  the  in- 
side of  the  sill,  and  hauled  himself  up  until  his  shoulders 
were  within  the  window  opening. 

It  was  then  that  a  female  figure  started  up  from 
a  couch  just  beside  him,  stifling  a  cry.  The  light  from 
the  lantern  above  fell  full  upon  her  face,  and  her  eyes 
were  staring  at  him  in  terror.  It  was  Marishka.  He 
whispered  her  name,  but  still  she  stared  at  him  wildly, 
and  it  was  not  until  then  that  he  remembered  his  dis- 


THE  MAN  IN  ARMOR 


guise.     He  took  off  his  fez,  and  spoke  to  her  again. 

"Marishka,  it  is  I,  Hugh !" 

He  saw  her  stare  and  then  take  a  pace  toward  him 
as  he  clambered  into  the  room,  and  in  a  moment  she 
was  in  his  arms. 

"Hugh — beloved!"  she  murmured  brokenly,  as  she 
leaned  heavily  against  him.  "I  have  been  so 
frightened " 

"Marishka!  Your  hands  are  ice  cold.  They  have 
kept  you  here — against  your  will?" 

"Yes.     And  you — Hugh — they've  tried " 

"Don't  fear,"  he  smiled.  "I've  as  many  lives  as  a 
cat.  Didn't  you  hear  me  scratching  my  way  up  the 
wall?  Sh ." 

He  left  her  for  a  moment,  and  peered  out  into  the 
darkness  of  the  garden.  All  was  silent  as  before,  and 
so  he  returned  and  took  her  in  his  arms  again. 

"You've  forgiven  me?"  he  whispered. 

"Need  you  ask?    Oh,  Hugh,  I've  wanted  you  so!" 

"Thank  God  for  that."  Their  lips  met  and  she  clung 
to  him,  all  the  pitiful  longings  of  her  days  and  nights 
of  misery  in  her  caress,  the  dependence  of  helpless 
womanhood,  but  greater  than  that,  the  fear  for  his 
safety,  which  took  precedence  over  her  own. 

He  kissed  her  tenderly,  the  joy  of  possession  the 
greater  for  the  dangers  that  they  ran. 

"You're  trembling,  Marishka.    Don't  worry." 

But  she  clung  to  him  anew. 

"If  anything  should  happen  now — that  I  have  you 
again." 

"Dearest!  I,  too,  have  suffered  with  you — but  I 
haven't  despaired.  I  would  never  have  given  you  up, 
you  know,"  he  said  with  a  smile. 

225 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS  _ 

"I've  never  wanted  you  to  give  me  up,  Hugh.  I've 
tested  you  cruelly  —  because  —  because  —  my  pride  was 
hurt  -  " 

"It   had   to   be,    Marishka.      But    you've    survived 


"My  love  is  greater  —  greater  than  anything  in  the 
world  to  me,"  she  murmured.  "Danger  has  proved  it  — 
and  yours  -  " 

"It  needed  nothing.     I  love  you  —  now  and  always." 

"You  forgive?" 

He  kissed  her  again  and  again,  and  for  a  long  mo- 
ment they  clasped  each  other  in  silence,  their  lips  to- 
gether, questioning,  replying  in  broken  syllables.  To 
the  woman,  nothing  else  mattered.  If  death  came  now, 
she  knew  that  it  would  be  sweet.  And  it  was  Renwick 
who  found  his  reason  first.  Her  hands  still  in  his,  he  led 
her  to  the  window,  where  he  scanned  the  garden 
anxiously.  But  there  was  still  no  sign  of  anything 
suspicious,  nor,  in  the  house,  any  sound.  But  Ren- 
wick  now  questioned  her  quickly. 

"You  sent  me  a  note  in  Vienna?" 

"Yes.  A  warning.  I  was  afraid.  I  urged  you  to 
return  to  England,  but  I  hoped  -  " 

"Ah  !    The  note  —  a  forgery  !" 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Your  note  told  me  to  come  to  Sarajevo  —  to  the 
'Hotel  Europa,  where  you  would  communicate  with  me." 

"A  forgery  !  Goritz  !  Now  I  understand.  He  said 
that  you  would  follow." 

"Goritz  —  the  limousine  chap!    He  is  here?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  haven't  seen  him  since  this  morn- 
ing. Hugh!  He  has  laid  plans  to  kill  you  —  a 
trap  -  " 


THE  MAN  IN  ARMOR 


"We  shall  outwit  him " 

"But  I  am  frightened,  even  now  with  you  here  be- 
side me,  Hugh.  He  is  clever — I  am  no  match  for  him 
— I  wrote  you  to  come — tonight.  It  was  what  he 
wished.  Don't  you  understand?  A  trap!  You  are 
in  danger — here — now " 

But  Renwick  did  not  seem  to  be  greatly  disturbed. 
His  mind  had  cleared  amazingly. 

"We  shall  fight  him  with  his  own  weapons " 

"I  am  frightened.  Are  you  sure  that  no  one  saw 
you  enter  the  garden?" 

"Positive."  And  then  pursuing  his  thought,  "You 
sent  a  note  to  the  Hotel  Europa?" 

"Yes — "  she  stammered,  "this  afternoon.  I  asked 
you  to  come  here — tonight  at  twelve.  You  received  it  ?" 

"No.    It  was  intercepted." 

"I  don't  understand." 

He  laughed.  "I  don't  wonder.  It's  the  luckiest  thing 
in  the  world  that  I've  found  you." 

He  kissed  her  again,  and  then  quickly,  "The  Harim 
is — where  ?" 

She  pointed  to  the  door  with  the  grille,  and  he  re- 
garded it  with  a  new  interest.  In  the  silence  that  fol- 
lowed, they  heard  again  the  murmur  of  voices,  a 
woman's  and  a  man's. 

"Zubeydeh !"  she  whispered.  "The  woman  here  and 
• — a  man's  voice." 

"We  must  find  a  way  out  quickly.  They  may  come 
around  this  way." 

He  noticed  the  door  upon  the  other  side  of  the  room. 

"Where  does  that  lead?" 

"To  the  selamliJc,  I  think.  But  it  is  better  to  go 
by  the  window.  I  can  climb.  Let  us  go." 

227 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

He  shook  his  head. 

"It's  dangerous.     The  stairs " 

"It  is  dark  below.     I  don't  know  where  they  lead." 

"To  the  garden.  The}'  must.  The  door  is  locked 
on  the  inside,  but  perhaps  there's  another  exit  at  the 
rear.  Come." 

He  drew  his  revolver  from  his  belt,  and  taking  her 
by  the  hand,  led  her  to  the  stair,  and  there  they 
stopped,  for  Marishka  clutched  his  arm  in  sudden  con- 
sternation. From  the  Harim  came  a  sudden  muffled 
noise — as  though  some  one  were  beating  upon  a  carpet. 

"Shots !"  whispered  Renwick.     "We  must  hurry." 

"Shots!    What  does  it  mean?" 

"I'll  explain  later.    Hurry!" 

There  were  cries  now — the  shriek  of  a  woman,  and 
above  all,  a  hoarse  bellow  as  of  some  enraged  animal. 
Renwick  had  already  descended  a  few  steps,  Marishka 
following  him,  when  the  door  to  the  selamlik  opened, 
and  a  female  figure  clad  in  Marishka's  silk  drapery 
rushed  forth.  It  was  Yeva. 

"Fraulein "    she    whispered    in    awed    tones    to 

Marishka.  "Forgive  me !"  she  pleaded.  "I  have  seen. 
It  was  beautiful.  I  could  not  see  harm  come  to  you. 
His  Excellency  has  been  in  the  street  at  the  back  of  the 
house,  but  when  the  fighting  began  came  up  the  rear 
stairway  of  the  selamlik " 

"Goritz !"  stammered  Marishka  in  terror. 

"But  I  have  locked  the  upper  door." 

"He  will  come  here,  Yeva !" 

"Excellency  must  go — if  there  is  yet  time." 

"The  garden !" 

"No,"  said  Renwick,  looking  about  for  a  place  of 
concealment.  "I  shall  stay." 

228 


THE  MAN  IN  ARMOR 


"It  is  death "  whispered  Marishka. 

But  Yeva  was  resourceful.  "The  armor!"  she 
whispered.  "I  have  often  hidden  in  it  from  Zubeydeh. 
Quickly,  Excellency !  It  stands  upon  brackets  in  the 
wall." 

And  while  Marishka  watched  the  stairhead  in  ter- 
ror, Yeva  helped  the  Englishman  into  this  strange 
place  of  concealment.  Excited  as  Yeva  was  at  her 
share  in  the  affair,  her  fingers  were  nimble,  and  she 
buckled  the  straps  quickly,  then  turning  fled  into  the 
selamlik  and  unlocked  the  door.  But  Goritz  by  this 
time  had  managed  to  find  a  way  to  the  stairs  to  the 
mabein,  and  came  up  stealthily,  listening  eagerly  to  the 
increasing  commotion  in  the  Harim.  He  found 
Marishka  and  Yeva  hand  in  hand  at  the  door  to  the 
selamlik  staring  in  consternation  at  the  door  of  the 
black  grille.  There  were  no  more  shots,  but  more 
ominous  even  than  shots  were  the  sounds  of  voices, 
strained,  subdued,  tense  with  effort — the  heavy  breath- 
ing of  men,  the  crashing  of  furniture,  and  then  at  last 
the  jar  of  heavy  bodies  falling — a  cry  of  triumph — and 
silence. 

Captain  Goritz  had  folded  his  arms  and  waited  ex- 
pectant. 

"It  is  very  strange,"  he  said  coolly  to  Yeva.  "Some- 
one has  broken  into  the  Harim?" 

"Excellency,  I  do  not  know.  I  was  at  the  other  end 
of  the  house.  The  Fraulein  was  frightened  and  called 
to  me,"  she  lied  glibly. 

"It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at "  he  said  with  a 

strange  smile.  "They  have  made  enough  noise  to  raise 
the  dead.  I  have  a  pardonable  curiosity  as  to  what 
has  happened."  But  as  he  strode  toward  the  door 

229 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

and   laid   a  hand   upon  the   knob,   Yeva   rushed   for- 
ward. 

"Excellency !"  she  whispered.  "You  dare  not !  The 
law!" 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment,  then  shrugged  and 
turned  to  Marishka. 

"I  would  suggest,  Countess  Strahni,  that  you  go  with 
this  girl  at  once  into  the  selamlik.  I  have  no  idea  of 
what  has  happened,  but  it  must  be  something  quite  dis- 
agreeable— an  intruder  within  the  Harim — the  penalty 
is  severe " 

Marishka  was  leaning  against  the  rail  of  the  stairway 
near  the  suit  of  armor,  and  Goritz  watched  her  curi- 
ously. 

"I — shall  not  go,"  she  stammered  faintly,  wondering 
at  the  growing  mystery. 

He  shrugged.  "As  you  please,"  he  muttered,  "but 
I  warn  you  that  the  situation  may  be — unpleasant " 

"I  shall  remain — "  she  said  again. 

There  were  sounds  of  heavy  footsteps,  and  the  door 
of  the  dutap  swung  open,  revealing  the  Beg  of  Rataj, 
torn  and  dishevelled,  his  face  distorted  with  passion. 
He  paused  in  the  doorway,  and  looked  from  Goritz  to 
Marishka,  breathing  rapidly. 

"Ah,  Excellency,"  he  gasped.  "I  call  you  all  to  wit- 
ness. A  man  has  entered  the  Harim — a  Christian. 
Yeva,  I  knew,  was  not  there,  but  I  saw  him  and  followed 
from  the  street  with  my  friends — my  son,  my  brother- 
in-law,  my  cousins.  He  is  here.  We  have  killed  him." 

Goritz  glanced  at  Marishka,  but  she  stared  past  the 
dreadful  apparition  into  the  corridor,  behind  him,  in- 
capable of  speech  or  thought. 

"A  Christian !"  said  Goritz.    "Incredible !" 
230 


THE  MAN  IN  ARMOR 


"You  shall  see,"  said  the  Effendi.  And  turning  to 
those  within  he  uttered  a  phrase  in  Turkish,  and  pres- 
ently Zubeydeh  and  a  man  came  forward  dragging  some- 
thing behind  them.  Marishka  hid  her  face  in  her  hands, 
and  crouched  nearer  the  corner  where  the  armor  was. 

She  saw  Goritz  suddenly  start  forward,  his  gaze 
upon  the  prostrate  figure  in  black,  which  its  bearers 
had  deposited  none  too  gently  in  the  middle  of  the 
rug.  Then  he  peered  into  the  upturned  face,  starting 
upright  and  glaring  at  the  Effendi. 

"Vermalerdeiter  Hallen "  he  cried.    "It's  not  the 

man!" 

"What  do  you  mean,  Excellency?"  cried  the  Beg. 

"What  I  say— Idiots !" 

"A  Christian — in  my  Harim!"  wailed  the  old  ruffian. 
"He  has  ruined  my  furniture  and  killed  my  brother- 
in-law  and  my  cousin." 

"What  do  I  care?"  cried  Goritz  furiously.  "You've 
got  us  all  into  trouble  with  your  bungling.  Do  you 
know  who  this  man  is?"  he  stormed. 

"Who,  Excellency?"  cried  the  Effendi. 

"Nicholas  Szarvas — the  most  famous  secret  service 
agent  in  Hungary." 

"What  say  you,  Excellency?"  the  Effendi  asked  be- 
wildered. 

"You  have  heard." 

"It  is  impossible.     This  was  the  man " 

"Bah !     You  are  a  sheep's  head." 

"Sheep's  head  I  am  not " 

"Then  you  are  a  fool !" 

"By  the  beard  of  the  Prophet — he  was  in  mj 
Hariin,"  muttered  the  Effendi.  "I  call  you  all  to  -wit- 
ness  " 

231 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"I  wash  my  hands  of  the  matter,"  said  Goritz  furi- 
ously. 

"I  am  within  my  rights — the  TIarim " 

"Bah — You  have  killed  a  police  officer  of  the  Em- 
pire!" 

"And  you?"  The  Effendi's  face  was  the  color  of  that 
of  the  man  upon  the  floor,  but  his  eyes  glowed  with  fear 
and  desperation. 

"I  know  nothing  of  the  matter,"  continued  Goritz. 
"A  Christian  comes  into  your  Harim  and  you  kill  him. 
If  he  turns  out  to  be  an  officer  of  the  law,  what  is  it  to 
me?" 

"You  will  pay  me  that  which  you  owe,"  shrieked  the 
Effendi.  "The  man  has  broken  my  furniture." 

"It  is  a  pity  he  didn't  break  your  head.  I  pay  you 
nothing." 

And  then  to  Marishka,  "Come,  Countess,  we  must  be 
upon  our  way." 

Marishka  stood  staring  at  Goritz,  a  new  horror  in 
her  eyes.  She  now  understood.  The  Effendi  thrust 
himself  between  them. 

"You  will  pay  me  that  which  you  owe,"  he  stormed 
again. 

"Stand  aside!"  said  the  German,  and  then  to  Ma- 
rishka, 

"If  the  Countess  Strahni  will  be  good  enough  to 
accompany  me?"  he  said,  civilly. 

But  Marishka  stood  fixed,  staring  at  him  with  alien 
eyes,  as  the  Effendi  rushed  forward  toward  her,  his  arms 
extended. 

"She  shall  not  go.  She  will  see  what  has  been  done. 
He  is  not  the  man.  She  will  remain  here  in  my  house 

until " 

232 


THE  MAN  IN  ARMOR 


"Stand  aside,  Effendi!"  cried  Goritz  furiously,  and 
as  the  man  did  not  move,  he  caught  him  by  the  shoulder 
and  thrust  him  roughly  aside.  He  scorned  to  use  a 
weapon,  and  the  other  man  and  the  woman  seemed  com- 
pletely dominated  by  his  air  of  command. 

"You  will  please  come  at  once,  Countess  Strahni. 
There  is  no  telling  how  soon  the  police  will  be  coming." 

And  as  Marishka  did  not  move — 

"You  heard?" 

"I  will  not  go,"  stammered  Marishka. 

Goritz  paused,  examining  her  keenly,  as  though  he 
had  not  quite  understood. 

"I  have  asked  you  quite  courteously,  Countess " 

"I  will  not  go,"  repeated  Marishka.  Her  voice  was 
ice-cold,  like  her  body,  which  seemed  to  be  frozen  into 
immobility. 

"I  beg  to  remind  you  of  your  promise — to  go  with 
me " 

"I  will  not  go,"  she  said  again. 

"Then  I  must  take  you,"  he  said,  striding  toward 
her  furiously,  and  reaching  out  a  hand  to  seize  her  by 
the  wrist. 

Then  a  strange  thing  happened.  The  man  in  armor, 
in  the  corner  behind  Marishka,  strode  clanking  forth 
into  the  room,  while  a  voice  reverberated  in  the  iron 
helmet.  What  it  said  no  one  understood.  The  Eft'endi 
gazed  at  the  moving  thing  in  terror,  and  then  with  a 
shriek  fled  down  the  stairs,  Zubeydeh  and  her  com- 
panion, calling  in  loud  tones  upon  Allah,  at  his  heels. 
Goritz  glanced  at  the  thing  and  then  stood  irresolute 
a  moment,  as  the  man  in  the  armor  slowly  raised  an 
arm,  for  at  the  end  of  the  arm  Goritz  saw  a  revolver 
pointed  directly  at  him. 

233 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"Hold  up  your  hands,  Captain  Goritz,"  rang  the 
voice  from  the  depths  of  the  helmet.  "Quickly,  or  I'll 
shoot." 

Goritz  bit  his  lips. 

"Clever — Herr  Renwick,"  he  said  coolly  in  English. 
"You've  taken  the  trick." 

"Hold  up  your  hands " 

But  Goritz  with  a  sudden  leap  had  sprung  behind 
Marishka.  Renwiek  fired  once  as  he  jumped,  and  missed. 
And  now  Goritz,  shielding  himself  behind  Marishka's 
body,  drew  his  automatic  and  fired  again  and  again, 
riddling  the  ancient  armor  like  a  sieve.  Marishka 
struggled  wildly  in  the  arms  of  the  German,  and  man- 
aged to  draw  the  dagger  concealed  in  her  waist,  but  he 
caught  her  wrist  and  held  her  in  front  of  him,  tak- 
ing careful  aim  at  the  man  in  the  armor  and  firing  de- 
liberately. Renwiek  tottered  forward  silently  and 
came  crashing  to  the  floor  in  the  corner,  where  after 
a  moment  of  struggle,  he  relaxed  and  lay  motionless. 

Goritz  caught  Marishka  around  the  waist  and  dis- 
armed her.  But  this  act  of  precaution  was  unneces- 
sary, for  after  one  fleeting  glance  at  the  tangled  heap 
of  iron  in  the  corner,  she  sank  a  dead  weight  in  his 
arms. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

NUMBER  28 

FOR  a  month  the  Landes  Hospital  had  been 
greatly  interested  in  the  mystery  of  patient 
Number  28.  In  spite  of  the  imminence 
of  war,  and  the  preparations  which  were  being  made 
to  care  for  the  wounded  along  the  border,  the 
physicians,  the  nurses,  and  the  other  patients  had 
all  formed  theories  as  to  the  man's  history 
and  the  possible  causes  of  his  injuries.  And  dur- 
ing the  long  period  in  which  he  lay  unconscious,  hov- 
ering in  the  dim  realm  between  life  and  death,  not  a  day 
passed  in  which  his  temperature,  respiration,  and  other 
symptoms  were  not  discussed  from  one  end  of  the  hos- 
pital to  the  other.  The  Head  Surgeon,  Colonel  Bohratt, 
inclined  to  the  opinion  that  if  the  man  continued  for 
a  few  days  longer  without  change  he  would  recover. 
But  the  Head  Nurse  shook  her  head  sagely.  The  wound 
in  the  head  had  been  difficult,  as  the  operation  was 
an  unusual  one,  the  wound  in  the  shoulder  was  noth- 
ing, but  the  one  in  the  stomach !  If  the  operation  of 
Colonel  Bohratt  proved  successful,  then  a  miracle  had 
been  performed. 

The  interest  in  the  case,  both  from  the  sentimental 
as  well  as  the  professional  point  of  view,  was  so  great 
that  the  man's  bed  had  been  carefully  wheeled  from  a 
ward  where  he  had  been  taken  from  the  operating  table, 

235 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

into  a  private  room,  where  every  chance  would  be  given 
him  to  recover. 

On  the  twenty-seventh  of  July,  Fraulein  Roth,  the 
nurse  on  duty  at  the  bedside  of  the  man  of  mystery, 
noted  a  slight  change  in  his  breathing,  and  saw  that 
he  had  opened  his  eyes,  which  were  regarding  her 
calmly,  but  with  the  puzzled  expression  of  one  who 
has  come  a  great  distance  into  a  strange  country. 
She  knew  then  that  what  the  Head  Surgeon  had  said 
was  true,  and  that  the  man  of  mystery  had  turned  the 
corner  which  led  away  from  the  land  of  the  Great  Be- 
yond. But  being  a  prudent  person,  she  gave  no  sign  of 
her  delight,  merely  moving  softly  closer  to  the  bed- 
side, and  in  German  quietly  asked  him  if  he  felt 
better. 

The  man  did  not  or  could  not  reply  at  once,  but  she 
saw  that  his  gaze  slowly  passed  beyond  her  to  the  bare 
walls  of  the  room  and  to  the  open  window,  beyond  which 
were  clouds,  sunshine,  and  the  distant  drowsy  murmur 
of  the  city. 

"You  are  feeling  more  comfortable?"  she  asked 
again,  in  German. 

"Yes,"  he  muttered. 

"You  have  been  sick,"  she  whispered  softly,  smooth- 
ing his  pillow. 

"Ah,  yes,  sick,"  the  man  muttered,  and  closing  his 
eyes,  slept  again. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  news  of  the  awakening 
of  Number  28  had  reached  the  nurses  and  attending 
physicians.  Colonel  Bohratt,  greatly  pleased  at  the 
correctness  of  his  prophecy  and  the  end  of  the  period 
of  coma,  at  once  a  tribute  to  his  wisdom  as  well  as  to 
his  professional  skill,  came  himself  and  viewed  the 

236 


NUMBER  28 


patient,  gave  directions  for  treatment  and  predicted 
speedy  recovery. 

That  night,  the  man  of  mystery  awoke  again,  ex- 
changed a  few  words  with  Fraulein  Roth  as  before,  and 
again  slept.  And  on  the  morrow,  a  sure  sign  that  all 
was  going  well  with  him,  he  had  gained  so  much  strength 
that  he  moved  freely  in  his  bed,  and  took  more  than  the 
casual  interest  of  the  desperately  sick  in  his  situation 
and  surroundings.  Fraulein  Roth  had  been  given  in- 
structions to  keep  him  quiet,  but  she  smiled  at  him 
when  quite  rationally  he  questioned  her. 

"Is  this  a  hospital?"  he  asked. 

"Yes — the  Landes  Hospital." 

"Where?" 

"Sarajevo." 

"Ah— Sarajevo." 

He  remained  silent  for  a  long  moment. 

"I  have  been  here  long?"  he  asked  again. 

"A  month." 

"A  month!    And  the  date?" 

"The  twenty-eighth  of  July " 

"Yes.     I  understand." 

Fraulein  Roth  wished  him  to  be  quiet,  but  after  a 
long  moment  of  contemplation  of  the  ceiling,  in  which 
his  brows  puckered  in  a  puzzled  way,  he  spoke 
again. 

And  when  Fraulein  Roth  anxiously  desired  him  to 
be  quiet,  she  discovered  that  Number  28  had  a  will  of 
his  own  and  only  smiled  at  her  earnestness. 

"I  am  feeling  quite  strong,"  he  said  weakly.  "It  will 
do  me  no  harm  to  talk,  for  some  things  puzzle  me.  I 
was  brought  here.  Won't  you  tell  me  how?" 

She  debated  with  herself  for  a  moment,  but  after  an 
237 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

inspection  of  her  patient  she  decided  to  tell  him  the 
facts. 

A  peasant  had  discovered  two  men  lying  in  a  strip  of 
woods  near  the  road  to  Gradina.  At  first  he  had 
thought  that  both  were  dead,  but  upon  closer  examina- 
tion he  found  that  one  of  the  men,  although  desperately 
wounded,  still  breathed,  and  notified  the  police,  who 
summoned  the  ambulance." 

"I?"  asked  the  sick  man. 

She  nodded.  "You  were  brought  here — to  the  Landes 
Hospital  in  a  bad  condition.  The  other  man  was  dead." 

"The  other  man— dead?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  nurse,  "with  stab  wounds  in  the 
back,  and  one  in  the  heart."  She  regarded  her  patient 
keenly  a  moment,  and  then  went  on.  "There  were  no 
marks  of  identification  upon  either  of  you.  You  were 
without  clothing.  Following  so  closely  upon  the  assas- 
sination of  the  Archduke  Franz  and  his  wife,  the  cir- 
cumstances were  suspicious,  and  the  police  of  Sarajevo 
and  the  secret  service  officials  have  done  all  they  could 
to  find  some  clew  to  the  murderers.  You  see,"  she  con- 
cluded with  a  smile,  "you  are  a  man  of  mystery  and 
all  Sarajevo  awaits  your  recovery." 

"Oh,  I  see.    They  are  waiting  for  me  to  speak?" 

Number  28  lay  silent,  regarding  the  ceiling  intently, 
frowning  a  little.  His  mind  worked  slowly  and  Fraulein 
Roth  saw  that  he  found  some  difficulty  in  mental  con- 
centration. 

"We  will  talk  no  more  at  present,"  she  said  firmly. 
"If  you  are  no  worse — perhaps  again  tomorrow." 

But  on  the  following  day  and  the  next  the  condi- 
tion of  the  patient  was  not  so  favorable,  for  he  lay  in 
a  drowsy  condition  and  showed  no  interest  in  anything. 

238 


NUMBER  28 


It  seemed  that  the  pallid  fingers  of  Death  were  still 
stretched  over  him.  There  were  whispered  consulta- 
tions at  the  bedside,  and  a  magistrate  came  to  take  a 
deposition,  but  the  Head  Surgeon  advised  delay.  He 
had  a  reputation  at  stake. 

The  wisdom  of  his  advice  was  soon  proved,  for  at  the 
end  of  three  days  Number  28  rallied,  his  fever  sub- 
sided, and  he  smiled  again  at  Nurse  Roth.  But  she  had 
learned  wisdom  and  refused  to  talk. 

Number  28  straightened  in  bed  and  ran  his  thin 
fingers  through  the  beard  with  which  his  face  was  now 
covered.  He  ate  of  his  food  with  a  relish  and  then 
eagerly  questioned. 

"I  am  quite  strong  again,  Fraulein.  See — my  hand 
does  not  even  tremble.  Will  you  not  talk  with  me?" 

"My  orders  are  to  keep  you  quiet." 

"I  have  been  quiet  long  enough — a  month !"  he  sighed. 
"The  world  does  not  stand  still  for  a  month." 

The  nurse  smiled.  "I  see  that  you  are  used  to  hav- 
ing your  own  way,"  she  said. 

"Is  it  not  natural  that  I  should  wish  to  know  what 
has  happened  in  the  world?  Tell  me.  The  Archduke 
Franz  was  killed.  Did  they  discover  a  plot?" 

"A  plot?  Yes.  The  boy  Prinzep  was  employed  by 
the  Serbians." 

"He  confessed?" 

"Not  to  that — but  it  is  obvious." 

"And  what  has  happened?" 

She  examined  him  intently,  aware  now  of  what  she 
herself  had  long  suspected,  that  this  patient  was  no 
ordinary  kind  of  man.  His  German  had  a  slight  ac- 
cent, but  whether  he  came  from  central  Europe  or 
elsewhere  she  could  not  decide. 

239 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"Austria  Hungary  is  on  the  eve  of  great  events.  A 
week  or  more  ago  Austria  Hungary  sent  an  ultimatum 
to  the  Serbian  government,  to  which  an  unsatisfactory 
reply  was  received.  The  Austro-Hungarian  minis- 
ter has  left  Belgrade,  and  war  has  been  declared  upon 
Serbia." 

"War!  and  Russia?" 

"Russia,  France  and  Germany  have  mobilized." 

"And  England?" 

"Nothing  is  known  of  what  England  will  do.  But  it 
is  feared  that  she  may  join  the  cause  of  Russia  and 
France." 

Number  28  lay  silent  for  a  moment  thinking  deeply, 
and  then — 

"It  has  come  at  last.    War.    All  of  Europe " 

"It  is  frightful.  There  has  already  been  fighting  on 
the  Serbian  border.  We  are  preparing  here  to  receive 
the  wounded." 

He  remained  silent  a  moment,  his  eyes  sparkling  as 
he  thought  of  what  she  had  told  him  and  then  quietly, 
"War!"  he  muttered.  "I  must  get  well  very  quickly, 
Nurse,  I  must " 

She  waited  for  him  to  go  on,  for,  being  a  woman, 
curiosity  as  to  his  history  obsessed  her,  but  he  said 
no  more.  And  in  spite  of  her  interest  in  this  man 
whom  she  had  faithfully  watched  and  served  for  more 
than  a  month,  some  delicacy  restrained  the  questions  on 
her  tongue. 

"You  will  not  get  well  for  a  long  while,  Herr  Twenty- 
Eight,  if  you  do  not  keep  quiet,"  she  said  quickly. 

"You  are  very  good  to  me,"  he  replied.  "I  shall  do 
as  you  wish." 

Several  days  after  this,  the  patient  having  gained 
240 


NUMBER  28 


strength  rapidly,  he  was  permitted  solid  food.  He 
slept  much,  and  in  his  waking  hours  seemed  to  be 
thinking  deeply.  He  was  very  obedient,  as  though 
concentrating  all  his  mind  upon  an  effort  toward  speedy 
recovery,  but  he  did  not  talk  of  himself.  His  strength 
now  permitting  more  frequent  conversation,  the  nurse 
brought  him  the  news  of  the  world  outside,  which  in- 
cluded the  declaration  of  war  by  Great  Britain  against 
Germany — and  the  certainty  of  a  declaration  against 
Austria  Hungary. 

"It  is  as  I  suspected,"  he  muttered.    "England " 

Again  her  patient  was  silent,  and  Nurse  Roth  glanced 
at  him  quickly.  English ! 

She  did  not  speak  her  thought,  for  the  import  of  her 
news  had  sent  her  patient  into  one  of  his  deep  spells  of 
concentration.  No  Englishman  that  she  had  ever  met 
had  spoken  the  German  language  so  fluently.  But 
concealing  her  interest  and  curiosity  when  he  turned 
toward  her  again,  she  smiled  at  him  brightly. 

"You  are  now  getting  much  stronger,  Herr  Twenty- 
Eight,"  she  said.  "The  Head  Surgeon  has  given  per- 
mission for  your  examination." 

"Examination?" 

"A  magistrate  will  come  tomorrow  to  take  your 
deposition." 

"I  don't  understand." 

"About  all  the  facts  connected  with  your  injuries." 

"They  have  learned  nothing?" 

"A  little.  The  man  who  was  found  with  you  has 
been  identified." 

"Ah!" 

"As  Nicholas  Szarvas,  a  Hungarian  police 
officer " 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"Szarvas !" 

"You  knew  him?" 

The  patient  was  silent  again.  She  had  come  sud- 
denly upon  the  stone  wall  which  had  balked  all  her 
efforts.  Her  hand  was  near  him  upon  the  bed.  He 
took  it  and  pressed  it  to  his  lips. 

"Do  not  think  me  ungrateful  for  all  your  kind- 
nesses,  Fraulein.  Some  day  perhaps  I  can  repay  you. 
But  there  are  reasons  why  I  cannot  speak." 

She  drew  her  hand  away  from  him  slowly. 

"But  you  must  speak  when  the  magistrate  questions," 
she  said  gently. 

"Perhaps !"    And  he  was  silent  again. 

With  his  growing  strength  had  come  wariness.  If 
England  declared  war,  he,  Hugh  Renwick,  at  present 
unknown,  would  be  interned,  a  prisoner;  and  all  hope 
of  finding  Marishka  and  the  German,  Goritz,  would  be 
lost.  In  the  first  few  days  of  his  awakening,  he  had 
thought  of  sending  for  Warwick,  the  British  Consul, 
and  putting  the  matter  entirely  in  his  hands.  But  be- 
fore he  had  had  the  strength  to  decide  what  it  was  best 
to  do,  had  come  the  declarations  of  war,  and  he  had  de- 
termined to  remain  silent  and  act  upon  his  own  initia- 
tive. Unless  he  had  muttered  something  of  his  past 
in  his  fever,  and  this  he  doubted,  or  some  sign  of  it 
would  have  come  from  Fraulein  Roth,  there  would  be 
no  means  of  identifying  him  as  an  Englishman,  and ' 
when  he  recovered,  they  would  let  him  go.  As  it  was, 
he  was  a  man  of  mystery,  and  as  such  he  intended  to 
remain.  He  had  noted  the  marks  of  interest  in  the 
face  of  the  nurse,  and  in  her  questions,  and  his  gratitude 
to  her  was  very  genuine,  but  he  was  sure  now  that  he 
was  in  no  position  to  take  chances.  War  being  de- 


NUMBER  28 


clared,  Warwick  would  have  been  given  his  passports, 
and  would  have  left  the  country.  No  one  in  Sarajevo 
knew  the  Englishman,  Renwick — at  least  no  one  who 
would  be  likely  to  connect  the  man  of  mystery  of  the 
Landes  Hospital  with  the  former  secretary  of  the  Brit- 
ish Embassy  in  Vienna. 

As  his  mind  had  grown  clearer,  the  wisdom  of  his  de- 
cision became  more  apparent.  If  a  magistrate  came, 
he  would  be  obliged  to  see  him,  but  he  knew  that  his 
period  of  illness  could  cover  a  multitude  of  remem- 
brances. 

The  magistrate  came  with  a  clerk,  and  questioned 
with  an  air  of  importance.  Renwick  realized  that  if  he 
refused  to  answer,  he  might  make  himself  an  object,  of 
suspicion,  and  endanger  the  chances  of  his  release  upon 
recovery,  and  so,  as  he  was  not  under  oath,  he  invented 
skillfully.  ' 

"What  is  your  name?" 

"Peter  Langer." 

"What  nationality?" 

"Austrian,  if  you  like.    I  am  a  citizen  of  the  world." 

The  magistrate  examined  him  over  his  glasses. 

"The  world  is  large.  From  what  part  of  Austria  did 
you  come?" 

"Vienna." 

"Your  parents  are  Viennese?" 

"They  were  in  Vienna  when  I  was  young." 

"Were  they  born  there?" 

"I  do  not  know." 

"It  is  necessary  that  you  should." 

"I  am  sorry  if  it  is  necessary.    I  do  not  know." 

"What  brought  you  to  Sarajevo?" 

"I  am  a  wanderer.    I  wished  to  see  the  world." 
243 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"A  wish  that  has  almost  proved  fatal.  You  have 
no  business?" 

"Merely  the  business  of  wandering." 

The  magistrate  frowned. 

"I  beg  that  you  will  take  this  matter  seriously,  Herr 
Langer." 

"I  do.     It  is  not  in  the  least  amusing." 

The  man  consulted  his  notes  for  a  moment. 

"Where  were  you  on  the  night  of  June  twenty-eight?'* 

"I  have  been  ill  for  a  month.  Dates  mean  nothing  to 
me.  My  memory  is  bad." 

"Ah !  Well,  then,  where  were  you  on  the  night  of  the 
assassination?" 

"What  assassination ?" 

"The  assassination  of  the  Archduke,"  replied  the 
magistrate  sternly. 

"In  Sarajevo,  I  should  say." 

"Natiirlich.    But  in  what  place?" 

"In  the  street,  perhaps — or  in  a  house.  I  don't  re- 
member." 

"I  beg  that  you  make  the  effort  to  remember." 

"I  cannot,"  said  Renwick  after  a  pause. 

"You  must." 

"My  mind  is  clouded." 

The  magistrate  exchanged  a  glance  with  the  nurse, 
who  stood  at  the  head  of  the  bed,  and  spoke  to  her. 
"This  man  talks  to  you  quite  rationally?" 

Fraulein  Roth  hesitated  and  then  said:  "Yes.  But 
he  has  been  very  ill.  I  should  suggest  that  you  excuse 
him  where  possible." 

"H — m !  This  is  a  matter  of  great  seriousness.  A 
police  officer  has  been  murdered  by  a  person  or  persons 
unknown.  This  man  was  found  near  his  body,  both  of 

244 


NUMBER  28 


them  left  for  dead.  It  is  not  possible  that  he  can  hare 
forgotten  the  circumstances — the  fight,  the  shooting 
which  preceded  his  unconsciousness."  And  then  to 
Renwick — "You  knew  Nicholas  Szarvas?" 

"No." 

"I  would  remind  you  that  this  is  the  man  who  was 
found  dead  beside  you." 

"I  did  not  know  him." 

"What  are  your  recollections  of  the  evening  I  have 
mentioned  ?" 

"I  have  no  recollections." 

"You  said  that  you  were  in  a  house." 

"Or  the  street — I  forget." 

"You  remember  having  an  altercation  with  someone?" 

"In  my  dreams — yes.     Many." 

"But  before  your  dreams,  when  you  were  conscious  ?" 

"None." 

"Szarvas  was  stabbed.    Did  you  see  him  attacked?" 

"I  did  not." 

"Have  you  any  idea  who  shot  you?" 

"A  man  who  was  my  enemy,  I  should  say." 

"Ah — you  had  an  enemy?" 

"Whatman  has  not?" 

"What  was  his  name?" 

"I  don't  remember." 

The  magistrate  got  up  frowning,  and  paced  up  and 
down  the  room,  his  hands  behind  his  back. 

"I  should  advise  you,  Herr  Langer,  that  it  is  my 
opinion  that  you  are  willfully  endeavoring  to  impede  the 
steps  of  this  investigation.  I  would  remind  you  also 
that  those  who  try  to  thwart  the  officers  of  the  law 
in  the  performance  of  their  duty,  are  alike  amenable 
to  it.  Your  reticence — I  can  call  it  by  a  less  pleasant 

245 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

word — is  aiding  and  abetting  a  criminal,  who  must  be 
brought  to  justice." 

"It  is  not  likely "    He  paused. 

"What?" 

"That  I  should  wish  to  save  a  man  who  had  tried  to 
murder  me." 

"But  this  is  precisely  what  you  are  doing." 

Renwick  smiled. 

"What  would  you?  Have  me  invent  a  story  for 
your  record?  I  can  say  no  more  than  I  remember.  I 
remember  nothing." 

The  magistrate  took  off  his  glasses  and  rubbed  them 
vigorously,  as  if  by  so  doing  he  could  clear  his  own 
mind  as  to  what  had  best  be  done.  Then  he  put  them 
upon  his  nose  and  took  up  his  hat  and  papers.  It  was 
certain  that  the  patient's  brain  was  still  far  from 
strong. 

"I  shall  not  pursue  this  investigation  now,"  he  said 
to  Nurse  Roth.  "I  shall  wait  a  few  days  in  which  Herr 
Langer  may  have  time  to  reflect.  He  is  still  very  weak, 
In  the  meanwhile,  Herr  Langer,  I  would  tell  you  that 
it  would  be  wise  for  you  to  recover  your  memory." 

"A  desire  which  I  sincerely  share,"  said  Renwick 
with  a  smile. 

"If  not,"  continued  the  magistrate  with  his  most 
magisterial  manner,  "you  will  be  detained,  as  a  material 
witness,  in  Sarajevo." 

"I  have  no  intention  of  leaving  Sarajevo  unless  some- 
one should  happen  to  pay  my  railroad  fare,"  replied 
Renwick  wearily. 

The  man  left,  followed  by  his  clerk,  and  Nurse  Roth 
closed  the  door  behind  them.  When  the  sounds  of  their 
footsteps  had  faded  away  along  the  corridor,  she  turned 

246 


"Thank  you,"  she  said  simply.     "I  believe  you.' 


NUMBER  28 


to  the  table  where  she  rearranged  some  roses  in  a  vase. 

"You  lie  very  ingeniously,  Herr  Twenty-eight,"  she 
said  with  a  smile. 

Renwick  regarded  her  calmly. 

"It  is  not  my  nature,  Nurse  Roth.  But  a  cracked 
skull  doesn't  improve  the  brains  beneath." 

She  came  over  to  him  quickly,  and  stood  beside  the 
bed. 

"You  have  some  reason  for  concealing  your  identity. 
I  know  that  you  remember  what  happened.  But  I  will 
protect  you  as  far  as  I  can,  upon  one  condition." 

"And  that?"  he  asked  anxiously. 

"That  you  will  give  me  your  word  of  honor  that 
it  was  not  you  who  killed  Nicholas  Szarvas." 

He  caught  her  by  the  hand  and  smiled  up  at  her  with 
a  look  so  genuine  that  there  was  no  question  as  to  his 
sincerity. 

"I  give  it.    I  did  not  kill  Nicholas  Szarvas." 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  simply.    "I  believe  you." 

"I  wish  I  could  tell  you,"  he  whispered  earnestly, 
"for  I  know  that  you  are  my  friend,  but" — rand  he 
relinquished  her  hand — "but  I  must  keep  silent." 

She  touched  him  gently  upon  the  shoulder  in  token 
of  understanding,  and  from  that  moment  said  no  more. 

The  days  passed  slowly,  but  it  was  evident  to  those 
who  were  interested  in  the  case  that  Number  28  gained 
strength  very  rapidly.  His  wounds  had  healed,  and 
he  was  soon  permitted  to  get  up  and  sit  in  an  armchair 
near  the  window,  where  he  could  look  out  over  the  min- 
arets of  the  city  below  the  hill.  But  to  all  except 
Nurse  Roth,  it  seemed  that  the  injury  to  his  head  had 
done  something  to  retard  the  recovery  of  his  memory. 
He  spoke  quite  rationally  to  Colonel  Bohratt  upon 

247 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

matters  regarding  his  physical  condition,  but  some-^ 
times  even  when  the  Head  Surgeon  was  talking  with  him, 
he  relapsed  into  a  state  of  mental  apathy  which  caused 
that  worthy  man  to  remove  his  bandage  and  examine 
the  wound  in  his  head.  After  which  the  Colonel  would 
leave  the  room  with  a  puzzled  expression.  And  in  con- 
sequence of  this  curious  mental  condition,  it  was  thought 
wise  to  defer  the  visit  of  the  officer  of  the  law  until  the 
patient's  mind  should  show  a  change  for  the  better. 
There  was  even  a  consultation  upon  the  advisability  of 
another  operation  upon  the  head,  but  the  patient 
showed  such  encouraging  marks  of  growing  lucidity 
that  the  operation  was  deferred. 

It  was  a  dangerous  game  that  he  was  playing,  and 
Renwick  knew  it,  for  the  time  would  come  when  he  must 
tell  who  he  was,  or  find  a  chance  to  escape  from  the 
hospital.  Escape  was  his  hope  and  each  day  as  he 
gained  new  strength,  he  thought  of  a  hundred  expe- 
dients by  which  it  might  be  accomplished.  He  knew 
that  even  now  he  was  under  surveillance,  and  virtually 
a  prisoner  of  the  Austrian  government,  until  he  could 
give  some  account  of  himself,  and  of  the  events  of  the 
night  of  the  twenty-eighth  of  June.  And  so  he  con- 
served his  energies  carefully,  gaining  courage  and 
weight  with  each  new  day,  playing  the  game  of  delay 
until  he  was  assured  of  his  strength  and  the  moment 
was  propitious.  The  chief  difficulty  which  confronted 
him  was  a  means  to  procure  clothing.  He  was  allowed 
the  privileges  of  the  hospital,  permitted  to  walk  upon 
the  terrace,  but  he  had  no  clothing  except  the  sleeping 
suit  of  cotton  and  a  wrapper-like  affair  which  he  wore 
when  out  of  his  room.  Whether  his  restriction  to  this 
costume  was  by  neglect  or  by  design,  he  did  not  know, 

3*8 


NUMBER  28 


for  all  the  other  convalescents  whom  he  met  out  in  the 
air  wore  the  clothes  in  which  they  had  come  to  the 
hospital.  The  fact  that  he  had  been  brought  here  un- 
clothed was  of  little  comfort  to  him,  and  he  feared  to 
request  a  change  of  garments  for  this  might  excite* 
suspicion.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  wait,  and 
when  strength  enough  came,  seize  the  first  opportunity 
presented  to  slip  quietly  away. 

He  had  been  studying  his  chances  with  a  discriminat- 
ing eye.  His  room  was  upon  the  second  floor,  but  there 
was  a  rain-spout  which  passed  just  beside  it,  and  given 
the  strength  of  hand  and  wrist  to  accomplish  the  de- 
scent, the  matter  would  be  simple.  There  was  a  row 
of  shrubbery  just  below  the  terrace,  which  led  to  a 
path  over  the  hills,  where  he  might  be  lost  under  cover 
of  the  night.  But  even  at  night  he  could  not  go  into 
Sarajevo  without  clothing.  For  a  while  the  idea  of 
appealing  to  Nurse  Roth  occurred  to  him,  but  he  at 
last  rejected  it,  aware  that  she  had  already  done  much 
that  could  not  be  repaid,  and  unwilling  to  subject  her 
to  the  alternatives  of  refusal  or  acquiescence — one  of 
which  might  be  hazardous  to  his  own  chances,  the  other 
surely  fruitful  of  unpleasantness  to  herself.  He  had  no 
right  to  ask  this  of  her.  He  wished  to  incur  no  new 
obligations,  for  when  the  time  came,  he  intended  to  go, 
and  he  could  not  repay  her  kindness  with  deceit.  And 
so  he  waited,  simulating  weakness,  exercising  in  secret, 
and  gaining  in  strength  for  the  hopeless  task  before 
him. 

He  had  made  no  plans.  What  plans  could  he  make 
when  he  had  no  means  of  making  inquiries?  Goritz  was 
gone  with  Marishka, — by  this  time  perhaps  far  beyond 

the  German  border,  the  girl  a  prisoner — or ?  For 

249 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

a  moment  he  paused  as  the  new  thought  came  to  him. 
What  would  be  the  status  of  the  Countess  Strahni 
since  the  outbreak  of  war?  The  conditions  which 
existed  before  the  pact  of  Konopisht  were  no  more. 
Germany's  ambitions  stultified — Austria  forgiving — • 
both  nations  involved  in  a  great  undertaking  the  prose- 
cution of  which  must  make  them  careless  of  all  less 
vital  issues !  Had  Goritz  been  recalled  from  this  secret 
mission  to  another  more  important?  And  if  so,  where 
was  Marishka?  Could  she  have  been  released?  There 
was  a  chance  of  it,  but  it  seemed  a  slender  one.  Goritz ! 
Something — some  deeply  hidden  instinct,  some  sus- 
picion harbored  perhaps  in  the  long  days  and  nights 
of  his  unconsciousness,  some  pang  of  fear  born  of  pain 
and  unrest,  advised  him  that,  behind  the  secret  duty 
which  had  first  brought  Goritz  to  Vienna,  he  was  now 
playing  a  game  of  his  own.  The  brief  glimpse  he  had 
had  of  the  man,  short  but  fearfully  significant,  had 
made  an  unpleasant  impression.  He  had  seen  the  look 
in  the  eyes  of  the  German  as  he  had  asked  Marishka 
to  go  with  him  from  the  house  of  the  garden,  a  look 
courteous  and  considerate,  that  had  in  it,  too,  some- 
thing more  than  mere  admiration.  If  the  man  were  in 
love  with  her!  And  what  man  of  any  vision,  learning 
to  know  Marishka  could  help  caring  for  her!  Not 
love,  surely!  Not  love  from  a  man  who  sheltered  him- 
self from  danger  by  using  her  as  a  shield.  He  had  been 
safe  then.  Renwick  could  not  have  fired  then.  And 
Goritz  was  clever  enough  to  know  it.  But  the  dastard- 
liness  of  such  a  trick!  There  was  a  long  score  to  pay 
between  Renwick  and  Goritz,  a  score  the  items  of 
which  had  begun  with  the  attempts  upon  the  English- 
man's life  in  Vienna  and  Konopisht,  the  imprisonment 

£50 


NUMBER  28 


of  Marishka,  and  the  shooting  in  Sarajevo  which  had 
nothing  to  do  with  politics.  They  were  enemies.  Their 
countries  were  enemies.  It  was  written. 

Absorbed  in  these  unpleasant  meditations,  Renwick 
sat  upon  the  terrace  of  the  hospital  after  supper,  idly 
manicuring  his  nails  with  Nurse  Roth's  scissors.  As 
it  grew  dark,  he  got  up,  slowly  pacing  up  and  down 
the  length  of  the  terrace.  The  moment  was  approach- 
ing when  he  would  be  called  in  to  go  to  his  room,  but 
he  grudgingly  relinquished  the  moments  in  the  soft 
evening  air.  It  was  curious  how  much  latitude  they 
gave  him — curious,  also,  that  the  magistrate,  after  his 
second  fruitless  visit  a  few  days  ago,  had  not  returned. 
As  Renwick  had  continued  evasive  the  magistrate  had 
grown  angry  and  at  last  had  threatened  him  with  the 
visit  of  one  who  would  make  him  speak.  Who  was  this 
new  inquisitor  to  be?  Someone  in  higher  authority? 
Or  perhaps  some  secret  service  agent  who  had  finally 
succeeded  in  getting  some  clews  as  to  the  murder  of  the 
colossal  Szarvas? 

Of  one  thing  Renwick  was  sure — that  soon  he  must 
make  a  break  for  liberty.  Tonight — now — into  the 
dusk  beyond  the  hills.  He  was  not  very  strong  yet, 
but  it  might  be 

"Herr  Twenty-Eight,"  said  the  voice  of  Nurse  Roth 
at  his  elbow,  "you  are  to  go  at  once  to  your  room  for 
examination." 

"Thanks,  Fraulein.  I  shall  go.  It  is  the  magis- 
trate?" 

She  nodded  soberly. 

"The  magistrate  and  another  whom  I  have  never 
seen.  They  are  now  in  the  office  consulting  the  Head 
Surgeon." 

251 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

Renwick  smiled  at  her  as  he  whispered,  "I  am  to  be 
grilled?" 

"I  fear  so." 

He  shrugged.  "The  time  for  subterfuge  is  past." 
And  then,  taking  her  hand  again,  "I  shall  go  at  once. 
But  whatever  happens  I  want  you  to  know  that  I  shall 
never  forget  what  you  have  done  for  me." 

"It  is  nothing.     Now  go,  please." 

He  bowed  and  preceded  her  into  the  hallway.  As 
they  passed  the  office  the  door  was  open  and  Renwick 
glanced  in.  The  magistrate  was  there  and  another 
man,  talking  to  Colonel  Bohratt,  all  of  them  unaware 
of  the  patient  in  the  darker  hallway  looking  at  them. 
Renwick  started,  and  then  gazed  again  at  the  third  man 
leaning  over  the  table  facing  him.  His  figure  seemed 
familiar,  his  bowing  and  gestures  more  so,  and  yet  for 
a  second  Renwick  could  not  place  him.  And  then  the 
man  smiled,  showing  a  gold  tooth  which  caught  the 
reflection  of  the  electric  light  upon  the  table.  A  gold 
tooth 

Nurse  Roth  was  regarding  Renwick  who  glanced 
at  the  open  door  behind  him  and  then  at  Nurse  Roth. 
The  pause  was  momentous.  Renwick  quickly  recovered 
his  poise  and  went  on  a  few  steps. 

"They  wish  to  see  me — in  the  office?"  he  asked  in  a 
whisper. 

"In  your  room,  please.  I  shall  tell  them  that  you. 
are  waiting." 

"Thanks,  again,"  said  Renwick  abruptly,  with  out- 
stretched hand,  "and  good-by." 

"Good-by?"  she  asked  in  alarm. 

He  smiled  over  the  shoulder  as  he  went  up  the  stairs, 

"I  think  I  shall  exchange  the  hospital — for  the 
252 


NUMBER  88 


He  left  her  standing  there  looking  up  at  him  in 
wonder  or  pity,  and  then  turning  the  stairhead  went  on 
down  the  upper  corridor.  There  were  nurses  con- 
rersing  here,  and  a  patient  or  two,  so  Re-nwick  went 
slowly  until  he  reached  his  room.  But  once  within 
the  door  he  acted  with  speed  and  resolution.  First 
he  turned  the  key  in  the  lock  and  softly  shot  the  bolt, 
then  crossed  the  room  quickly,  his  heart  beating 
rapidly.  He  was  not  strong  and  his  nerves  already 
were  warning  him,  but  they  did  not  fail  him.  He 
peered  out  of  the  window  upon  the  terrace.  It  was  not 
yet  dark  and  there  was  a  nurse  below  standing  beside 
a  man  in  a  wheel  chair.  He  could  not  go  now  for  they 
would  see  him  and  surely  give  the  alarm,  and  so  he 
waited,  going  back  to  the  door  and  listening  for  the 
sound  of  approaching  male  footsteps.  As  yet  no  sound. 
He  peered  down  upon  the  head  of  the  luckless  nurse, 
mutely  imprecating.  The  moments  were  precious. 
Would  they  never  go  in?  It  was  past  the  hour  for 
loitering  on  the  terrace.  For  a  moment  the  idiotic 
notion  came  to  him  to  go  out  into  the  corridor  and 
call  the  attention  of  the  nurse  in  charge  of  the  floor 
to  the  infraction  of  rules,  but  he  turned  again  to  the 
window.  The  nurse  was  moving  now,  slowly  pushing 
the  wheel  chair  toward  the  door.  It  was  barely  a  hun- 
dred feet  away,  but  to  Renwick  it  seemed  an  eternity 
before  the  pair  vanished  within.  Then  taking  off  his 
slippers  he  put  them  in  the  pocket  of  his  wrapper,  and 
rolling  it  into  a  bundle,  dropped  it  noiselessly  upon 
the  terrace  below.  His  nerves  quivered  as  he  sat  astride 
the  window-sill  but  he  set  his  jaw  and  lowered  himself 
from  the  window,  catching  the  iron  gutter-pipe  with 
bare  fingers  and  toes.  The  spout  seemed  to  creak 

253 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

horribly,  and  for  a  moment  he  thought  that  it  was 
swaying  outward  with  him.  But  the  sensation  was  born 
of  his  own  weakness.  The  pipe  held  and  slowly  he 
descended,  reaching  the  ground,  his  knuckles  bruised 
and  torn,  but  so  far,  safe. 

He  paused  for  a  moment  to  slip  into  his  wrapper 
and  then  crossed  the  terrace  quietly,  reached  the  lawn 
and  the  shelter  of  the  bushes  below. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
DISGUISE 

LONG  ago  he  had  planned  the  direction  in  which 
he  should  go  when  the  time  came  for  him  to 
escape.  And  so  without  pausing  to  look  behind 
him  he  hurried  down  the  hill  in  the  shelter  of  the  hedge 
until  he  reached  its  end.  A  hundred  yards  away  was 
a  hillock.  By  going  forward  in  a  line  which  he  had. 
already  marked  he  would  have  the  partial  protection 
of  rocks  and  bushes.  He  paused  just  a  moment  to  be 
sure  that  no  one  was  coming  after  him.  All  was  as 
before  and  the  dark  group  of  buildings,  his  home  for 
nearly  two  months,  loomed  in  silent  dignity  behind  him. 
But  Renwick  knew  that  it  would  not  be  long  before 
the  whole  countryside  would  be  buzzing  like  a  hornet's 
nest.  In  his  enfeebled  condition,  he  could  hardly  hope 
to  cope  with  his  pursuers  in  the  matter  of  speed  and 
so  as  he  went  on  across  the  stream  at  the  base  of  the  hill, 
he  tried  to  plan  something  that  would  outwit  them. 
The  nearest  outlying  houses  of  the  town  were  but  a 
few  hundred  yards  distant,  but  instead  of  taking  the 
road  down  the  hill,  he  turned  sharply  to  his  left  after 
crossing  the  road  and  entered  the  Moslem  cemetery, 
laid  according  to  the  custom  in  a  cypress  grove.  He 
now  moved  slowly  and  leaning  against  the  bole  of  a 
tree  regained  his  breath  while  he  listened  for  the  ex- 
pected sounds  of  pursuit.  The  cemetery  seemed  to  be 

255 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

deserted,  but  he  decided  to  take  no  chances,  so  he 
found  a  tree  with  thick  foliage,  and  climbed  from  one 
bough  to  another  until  he  found  a  crotch  of  a  limb 
where  he  disposed  himself  as  comfortably  as  possible 
to  wait  until  the  pursuit  had  passed  him  by. 

His  pulses  were  still  pounding  furiously  from  the 
sudden  effort  of  muscles  long  unused,  and  his  nerves 
were  tingling  strangely,  but  he  clung  to  his  perch  until 
the  period  of  weakness  passed  and  then  planned  what 
he  had  better  do.  Inside  of  an  hour  every  policeman 
in  Sarajevo  would  be  warned  by  Herr  Windt  to  look 
out  for  a  man  with  a  beard,  wearing  a  sleeping  suit  and 
a  blue  woolen  wrapper.  The  obvious  thing  therefore 
was  to  avoid  Sarajevo  or  else  find  a  means  to  change 
his  costume.  But  if  he  begged,  borrowed,  or  stole 
an  outfit  of  native  clothing — what  then?  Where 
should  he  turn?  He  had  no  money,  for  that,  of  course, 
had  been  taken  by  the  ruffians  who  had  carried  his 
body  into  the  woods  and  stripped  him  of  his  clothing. 
To  all  intents  and  purposes  he  had  been  born  again — • 
had  come  into  the  world  anew,  naked  save  for  the  un- 
slightly  flapping  things  in  which  he  was  wrapped.  His 
English  clothes  were  at  the  inn  in  the  Bistrick  quarter 
where  he  had  left  them,  but  to  seek  them  now  meant 
immediate  capture.  And  if  he  wore  English  clothes 
in  the  streets  of  a  town  full  of  men  in  uniform  he  would 
be  as  conspicuous  as  though  in  sleeping  suit  and 
wrapper.  A  native  costume  was  the  thing — and  a  fez 
which  would  hide  the  plaster  on  his  head.  But  how- 
to  get  it?  He  heard  voices,  and  two  men  passed  below 
him  weaving  in  and  out  among  the  trees ;  he  blessed 
the  inspiration  which  had  bidden  him  climb.  He  would 
have  known  Windt.  He  was  not  one  of  them.  They 

256 


DISGUISE 


were  men  from  the  hospital,  out  of  breath  with  run- 
ning, and  the  phrases  they  exchanged  gave  Renwick 
comforting  notion  that  they  were  already  wearily  im- 
pressed with  the  hopelessness  of  their  task.  A  while 
they  waited,  and  then  he  saw  them  go  out  on  the  fur- 
ther side  of  the  copse  as  though  glad  to  be  well  away 
from  so  melancholy  a  spot.  Indeed  the  gray  turban- 
carved  tombstones  were  eloquent  to  Renwick  and  a 
newly  made  grave  not  far  away  was  unpleasantly  sug- 
gestive of  the  fate  that  had  so  nearly  been  his.  It  was 
starlight  now,  but  dark,  and  the  owls  were  already  hoot- 
ing mournfully  as  though  the  souls  of  those  who  lay  in 
the  sod  beneath  had  come  again  to  visit  by  night  their 
last  resting  places.  It  was  not  the  most  cheerful  spot 
for  a  man  who  had  just  come  out  of  a  bout  with  death, 
and  Renwick  had  no  mind  to  stay  there.  So  when  the 
men  who  had  been  searching  for  him  had  gone  their 
ways,  he  clambered  stiffly  down.  He  lingered  by  the 
newly  made  grave,  obsessed  by  the  rather  morbid 
notion  of  digging  up  the  estimable  Moslem  who  re- 
posed there  and  exchanging  his  own  hospital  wrapper 
for  the  much  to  be  desired  native  costume,  but  desper- 
ate as  was  his  need  the  idea  was  too  unpleasant.  He 
would  rob,  if  necessary,  but  not  the  dead. 

As  he  wandered  among  the  trees  in  the  direction  of 
the  nearest  lights,  he  felt  a  pair  of  scissors  in  the 
pocket  of  his  wrapper — Fraulein  Roth's.  His  fingers 
closed  upon  them  now.  A  w«eapon?  Better  than  that. 
A  plan  had  come  to  him  which  he  proceeded  immediately 
to  put  into  practice.  Taking  off  his  wrapper  he  seated 
himself  upon  a  tombstone  and  began  cutting  it  into 
pieces,  shaping  a  short  sleeveless  jacket.  He  cut  the 
sleeves  of  the  wrapper  lengthwise  and  made  a  turban. 

257 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS        

Its  skirt  made  him  a  belt  with  something  left  over. 
He  puzzled  for  awhile  over  the  remnant  of  cloth  left 
to  him,  thinking  of  his  Jegs,  but  at  last  discarded  it 
as  useless,  and  hid  it  among  the  bushes.  Then,  labo- 
riously, he  trimmed  his  mustache  and  beard.  It  was 
slow  work  without  light  or  mirror,  but  he  persevered 
until  to  the  touch  of  his  fingers  the  merest  bristle  re- 
mained, a  stubble  such  as  a  man  would  have  who  had 
gone  a  few  days  without  shaving.  Then,  satisfied  that 
under  cover  of  the  darkness  he  might  pass  in  a  crowd  of 
people  unnoticed,  he  slipped  the  scissors  into  the  coat 
of  his  sleeping  suit  and  sallied  forth. 

At  least  he  was  rid  of  the  flowing  robe  which  would 
have  made  of  him  a  marked  man.  Fortunately  the 
night  was  hot  and  sultry,  and  so  far  he  suffered  no  in- 
conveniences, but  he  knew  that  this  disguise  was  only 
a  makeshift  and  that  by  fair  means  or  foul,  he  must 
come  into  the  possession  of  some  sort  of  costume  in 
which  he  could  face  the  light  of  day.  In  the  road,  he 
passed  a  farmer  returning  from  the  bazaar,  and  the 
careless  greeting  of  the  man  reassured  him.  A  poly- 
glot costume  surely — but  this  was  a  city  of  polyglots. 
The  disguise  would  do — at  least  for  this  night.  But 
the  appearance  of  Windt  had  seriously  alarmed  him. 
It  meant,  if  he  was  taken,  that  he  would  surely  be  in- 
,  terned,  or  worse,  perhaps  that  he  might  be  accused  of 
complicity  in  the  murder  of  Szarvas,  Windt's  own  man. 
In  the  back  of  his  head  a  plan  had  been  forming,  which 
meant  if  not  active  help  in  escaping  from  the  city,  at 
least  a  short  refuge  from  pursuit,  and  perhaps  some- 
thing more.  He  meant  to  go  to  the  house  where  Mar- 
ishka  had  been — and  speak  to  the  girl,  Yeva.  It  was 
the  only  hope  he  had  of  a  clew  to  Marishka's  where- 

258 


DISGUISE 


abouts — the  only  hope  of  help  in  this  city  of  enemies. 
He  was  quite  sure  that  he  would  not  be  a  welcome 
visitor,  for  it  was  the  old  ruffian  in  the  turban,  of 
course,  who  had  taken  the  clothing  from  Renwick's 
body  and  left  him  for  dead  upon  the  hillside.  The 
theory  in  the  hospital  had  been  that  those  who  had  car- 
ried Renwick  into  the  woods  had  intended  burying  the 
bodies — for  a  spade  had  been  found  later  near  the 
place — but  that  the  murderers  had  been  frightened 
away  before  being  able  to  carry  out  their  plan.  And 
lacking  information  upon  the  subject,  Renwick  had 
come  to  the  same  conclusion.  He  might  not  be  wel- 
come at  the  house  of  the  blue  door,  but  he  knew  the 
old  man's  secret  and  decided  to  risk  danger  by  playing 
the  game  with  an  open  hand. 

Instead  of  going  into  the  city  by  the  nearest  way, 
which  would  have  led  him  in  a  few  moments  into  the 
European  part  of  the  town,  he  bore  to  the  left  again, 
climbing  the  hill  behind  the  Tekija  mosque,  until  he 
reached  an  eminence  back  of  the  fortress  above  the 
Golden  Bastion,  and  then  slowly  descended  into  the 
Turkish  quarter  of  the  town  where  the  streets  were 
narrow  and  dark  and  the  danger  of  detection  mini- 
mized. He  had  already  passed  many  people  who  had 
merely  glanced  at  him  and  gone  their  ways,  and  the 
success  of  his  disguise  gave  him  confidence;  but  as  he 
approached  the  Sirocac  Tor  he  was  badly  frightened, 
for  on  turning  the  corner  of  a  street  he  ran  directly 
into  the  arms  of  a  stout  Bosnian  policeman  who  was 
looking  for  him.  The  man  swore  at  him  in  bad  Ger- 
man and  Renwick  drew  back  against  the  wall,  sure  that 
the  game  was  up,  until  he  realized  that  the  fellow  was 
only  cursing  because  he  was  almost,  if  not  quite  as 

259 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

much  startled  as  Renwick.  So  the  Englishman,  re- 
gaining his  composure,  bowed  politely  and  would  have 
gone  on,  but  the  policeman  spoke. 

"Which  way  have  you  come?"  he  asked. 

"From  the  Kastele." 

"You  have  seen  no  bareheaded  man  with  a  beard, 
wearing  a  long  blue  coat?" 

"A  long  blue  coat?  There  are  none  with  long  blue 
coats  in  the  Kastele  in  the  month  of  August." 

"Pfui — !  I  do  not  wonder!"  said  the  fat  Bosnian, 
and  hurried  on. 

But  the  venture  made  Renwick  more  cautious,  and 
he  avoided  the  street-lights,  moving  under  the  shadows 
of  walls  and  houses,  at  last  reaching  the  tortuous  alley- 
way down  which  he  had  once  come  to  inspect  the  house 
with  the  meshrebiya  windows.  Almost  two  months  had 
passed  since  he  had  stood  in  this  spot,  watching  these 
same  lighted  windows,  unaware  of  the  success  that 
had  been  almost  within  his  grasp.  Outwardly  noth- 
ing was  changed.  The  blue  door  faced  him,  and  gath- 
ering courage,  he  crossed  the  street  and  entered  the 
garden.  It  was  very  dark  under  the  trees  and  he  went 
quietly  forward,  stopping  by  the  fountain  to  listen 
for  sounds  within  the  house.  He  realized  that  it  was 
growing  late,  and  that  while  the  garden  offered  him 
a  refuge  from  those  who  were  seeking  him  in  the  city, 
daylight  would  make  his  tenure  precarious  even  here. 
If  the  girl  Yeva  would  only  come  down  into  the  gar- 
den! He  waited  by  the  bench  listening,  and  presently 
was  rewarded  by  hearing  a  light  rippling  laugh  from 
the  room  above  the  door.  She  was  there — the  girl — 
but  not  alone — with  the  old  woman  perhaps,  or  the 
man  with  the  beard.  Renwick  listened  again  and 

260 


DISGUISE 


watched  the  window,  but  heard  nothing  more.  There 
was  nothing  for  it  but  to  put  on  a  bold  front,  so  sum- 
moning his  courage,  he  walked  to  the  door  of  the  house 
and  loudly  knocked. 

There  was  an  exclamation,  a  sound  of  footsteps  upon 
the  stair,  and  at  last  the  bolt  of  the  door  was  shot 
and  the  door  opened.  Zubeydeh  stood,  a  lantern  in 
her  hand,  scrutinizing  him. 

He  spoke  in  German  at  once.  "I  come  upon  an 
urgent  matter,"  he  said  coolly.  "Upon  a  matter  very 
important  to  the  owner  of  this  house — 

"Speak — what  do  you  want?"  she  asked. 

"I  bear  a  message." 

"The  Effendi  is  not  at  home " 

"Ah — then  Yeva  may  receive  it." 

"Yeva!     Who  are  you?" 

He  smiled.     "For  the  present  that  need  not  matter." 

Zubeydeh  blocked  the  door  more  formidably  with 
her  body. 

"No  one  enters  this  house  in  the  Effendi's  absence." 

"I  do  not  desire  to  enter  the  house.  I  merely  wish 
to  talk  with  Yeva,  here " 

"That  is  not  possible."  The  woman  moved  back 
and  made  a  motion  to  close  the  door,  but  Renwick  took 
a  pace  forward  and  blocked  her  effort  with  his  foot. 

"Wait,"  he  said. 

Something  in  the  tone  of  his  voice  arrested  her,  and 
the  hand  which  held  the  door  relaxed.  She  regarded 
Renwick  with  a  new  curiosity.  Her  eyes  narrowed  as 
she  peered  into  his  face.  She  had  seen  someone  who 
looked  like  this  tall  beggar,  but  where ? 

"Who  are  you?"  she  asked  again,  this  time  with  a 
note  of  anxiety,  scarcely  concealed. 

261 


Renwick  smiled,  but  he  had  not  yet  removed  his  foot 
from  the  sill  of  the  door. 

"You  do  not  remember  me?" 

"No — and  yet "  She  paused  in  bewilderment, 

and  Renwick  quickly  followed  his  advantage. 

"I  am  one  who  can  save  this  house  from  a  danger." 

"Speak!" 

"I  have  but  to  speak  yonder,"  and  he  gestured  elo- 
quently toward  the  city  below  them,  "and  the  danger 
will  fall."  He  leaned  forward,  whispering  tensely,  "The 
secret  police  of  the  Austrian  government  wish  to  know 
more  about  the  death  of  Nicholas  Szarvas  and " 

Zubeydeh  dropped  the  handle  of  the  door  and  seized 
Renwick's  arm,  while  her  narrow  eyes  glittered  ter- 
rified close  to  his  own. 

"And  you ?" 

"It  is  merely  that  I  did  not  die,"  he  said  coolly. 

"You  are ?" 

"I  am  the  man  in  the  armor,  Zubeydeh,"  he  said 
solemnly. 

She  started  back  from  him  in  affright,  her  hands 
before  her  eyes. 

"Allah!"  she  whispered,  and  then  leaned  forward 
again  touching  his  arm  lightly,  imploringly,  while  she 
looked  past  him  into  the  dark  recesses  of  the  garden. 

"Then  they  are  there — the  police  are  coming ?" 

He  quickly  reassured  her. 

"No.  I  mean  you  no  harm.  Do  you  understand? 

I  have  said  nothing — nor  shall  I  speak  unless "  he 

paused  significantly. 

"Unless ?" 

"Unless  you  refuse  to  permit  me  to  speak  with  Yeva. 
That  is  all.  Listen,  Zubeydeh ;  since  that  night  I  have 

262 


DISGUISE 


been  in  the  hospital.  They  would  keep  me  here  a 
prisoner.  I  have  escaped — in  this  disguise.  I  make 
a  bargain  with  you.  You  help  me — I  will  be  silent. 
If  you  refuse,  I  shall  tell  the  police." 

"What  do  you  want?"  she  asked  breathlessly. 

"A  disguise,  a  weapon,  and  some  money — not  much." 

"Money!     The  Effendi  has  gone  upon  a  journey." 

"A  few  kroner  only — enough  to  get  me  out  of  town." 

"And  you  will  keep  silent?" 

"As  the  grave.  Don't  you  understand?  I  wish 
to  go  away  from  here — quickly,  and  then  you  will  not 
see  me  again." 

"How  can  I  believe  you?"  she  said  suspiciously. 

"Bah!  Don't  be  stupid!  If  I  had  desired  to  betray 
you,  I  should  have  told  the  truth  long  ago," 

Zubeydeh  hesitated. 

"You  will  go  away?" 

"Yes.     I  shall  go " 

There  was  a  sound  upon  the  stairs  behind  Zubeydeh 
and  Yeva  thrust  herself  forward. 

"I  was  at  the  window  above.  I  heard.  Allah  be 
praised!  You  are  alive?" 

"Yeva!    You  know  anything — of  her?" 

"No,  nothing,"  sadly.  And  then  as  she  examined 
him  closely,  "But  you  must  come  into  the  house.  I 
will  do  what  you  wish. 

The  matter  was  now  out  of  Zubeydeh's  hands,  for 
whatever  her  doubts,  Yeva's  swift  confidence  had  swept 
them  away.  She  stood  aside  and  motioned  for  him 
to  go  up  the  stairs. 

"You  will  not  remain  long?"  she  asked. 

"Only  long  enough  to  change  my  clothing — you  will 
provide?" 

263 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"Yes.     There  are  garments." 

"A  fez,  jacket,  breeches,  stout  opankas." 

"It  shall  be  as  you  desire." 

Renwick  went  up  the  stairs  into  the  room  where 
he  and  Goritz  had  met,  recapitulating  briefly  in  his 
mind  the  sequence  of  events  which  had  led  to  his  own 
downfall.  If  he  had  only  shot  the  man  when  he  had 
stood  there  a  fair  mark,  defenseless !  It  had  not  been 
the  sporting  thing,  but  if  he  had  known  what  was  to 
follow,  he  would  have  done  it  nevertheless.  At  least 
he  thought  so  now.  The  fateful  armor  had  been  re- 
stored to  its  place  in  the  corner,  and  while  he  anx- 
iously awaited  Yeva's  return  he  examined  it  casually 
with  the  rather  morbid  interest  which  one  might  dis- 
play in  the  inspection  of  one's  coffin.  It  was  dented 
upon  the  sides  with  the  marks  of  bullets  which  had 
glanced  aside,  but  three  neatly  drilled  holes,  two  in 
the  breastplate  and  one  in  the  helmet,  reminded  him 
again  how  narrow  had  been  his  escape  from  death. 
"Close  shooting,  that,"  he  muttered  to  himself.  "Emp- 
tied clip  and  not  one  miss." 

Yeva,  who  had  gone  with  Zubeydeh  into  the  Harim, 
now  returned  (discreetly  veiled)  and  with  an  air  of 
restraint  made  a  sign  to  the  Englishman  to  be  seated 
while  Zubeydeh  brought  refreshments. 

He  heard  Yeva  speaking  gently  at  his  ear. 

"Allah  is  good.  Excellency,  they  told  me  that 
you  were  dead — that  they  would  bury  you.  They 
took  your  body  and  that  of  the  other  man  in  a  cart 
to  the  hills  above  the  city.  But  someone  came,  and  they 
were  forced  to  go  away." 

"You  saw  her  go  with  him?" 

"Yes.  She  had  fainted.  I  helped  to  carry  her  down 
264 


DISGUISE 


through  the  selamlik  to  the  street  at  the  back  of  the 
house.  Then  an  automobile  came,  and  they  took  her 
away." 

"There  have  been  no  inquiries  here?" 

"None.  And  you  will  say  nothing?"  she  asked  anx- 
iously. 

"Not  a  word.  Would  you  have  me  deliver  myself 
into  the  hands  of  my  enemies  ?" 

"I  shall  help  you,  Excellency,  if  you  will  try  to  find 
her." 

"Yes.  I  shall  try.  I  will  follow,  if  you  will  pro- 
vide me  with  clothing." 

"It  shall  be  done.  But  first  you  must  eat  and  drink 
and  then  we  shall  plan." 

Zubeydeh,  now  completely  disarmed,  brought  cakea 
and  sherbet,  and  when  Renwick  had  eaten  and  drunk, 
gave  him  cigarettes  and  the  clothing,  showing  him  into 
a  room  where  he  quickly  divested  himself  of  his  rags 
of  wrapper  and  put  on  the  garments  which  she  had 
brought.  They  were  curiously  familiar.  His  own  dis- 
guise— that  which  he  had  bought  in  the  bazaar  and 
had  worn  when  he  had  first  come  to  this  house.  He  felt 
in  the  pockets  of  his  trousers  but  the  money  was  gone. 
And  when  he  was  dressed,  Zubeydeh  colored  his  face 
with  some  liquid  which  she  brought  from  the  kitchen. 

The  clock  on  the  mantle  indicated  the  hour  of 
eleven  when  Renwick  prepared  to  take  his  departure. 
It  had  been  a  market  day  in  the  Turkish  quarter,  and 
late  at  night  the  farmers  would  be  returning  to  their 
homes.  Aware  of  the  difficulties  which  might  lie  in 
the  way  of  his  leaving  the  city,  Yeva  proposed  that 
Renwick  should  leave  the  Carsija  in  the  cart  of  a 
cousin  of  Zubeydeh's,  a  farmer  who  lived  on  the  Ro- 

265 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

manja  Plain;  and  Renwick,  quick  to  see  the  advan- 
tages of  the  plan,  readily  agreed,  for  it  was  toward 
the  Visegrader  Gate,  he  had  learned,  that  the  automo- 
bile of  Captain  Goritz  had  departed. 

As  he  left  the  lower  door  with  Zubeydeh,  who  was 
to  accompany  him  as  far  as  the  Carsi j  a,  Renwick 
caught  Yeva  by  the  hand. 

"I  cannot  thank  you,  girl.  But  some  day  I  shall 
pay.  You  will  remember.  I  promise." 

"It  is  nothing,"  she  said;  and  then  with  a  laugh: 
"But  if  in  Vienna  or  Paris  or  London,  you  should 
see  a  silk  dress  of  blue " 

"You     shall     have     two     of     them — and     two     of 

pink " 

"Excellency !"    she    cried,    clapping  her   hand 

childishly. 

"And  if  I  find  her— jewels !" 

"It  is  too  much "  she  cried.     And  then  eagerly, 

as  though  she  feared  he  might  misinterpret,  "Still,  I 
should  like  them " 

"You  shall  have  them — some  day." 

"I  shall  pray  to  Allah  that  you  may  find  her.  Go, 
Excellency.  Go  to  her  and  tell  her  that  I  have  done 
what  I  can." 

'''Allah  will  bless  you." 

"May  Allah  bless  you  both,"  she  sighed,  "for  it  is 
all  so  very  beautiful." 

The  last  glimpse  that  Renwick  had  of  her  was  from 
the  gate  of  the  garden,  where  he  turned  to  wave  his 
hand  as  she  stood,  leaning  wistfully  against  the  door- 
post of  the  house,  looking  after  him. 

The  arrangements  for  his  journey  were  readily 
made  and  the  business  of  the  night  being  concluded,  in 

266 


DISGUISE 


half  an  hour  Renwick,  passing  again  as  Stefan  Tho- 
masevics  on  his  way  to  Rogatica  to  help  in  gathering 
the  harvest,  was  seated  beside  Selim  Ali,  Zubeydeh's 
cousin,  driving  in  a  cart  through  the  silent  Kastele. 
Renwick  saw  several  Bosnian  police  officers  in  uni- 
form, who  inspected  the  empty  vehicle,  but  merely 
glanced  at  the  slouching  figures  on  the  seat.  At  the 
Visegrader  Gate  they  were  detained  and  questioned, 
but  Selim  had  a  clever  tongue  and  told  a  straight  story 
which  Renwick  corroborated  with  nods  and  gestures. 
It  would  have  been  dangerous  to  risk  his  too  fluent 
German  on  the  officer  of  the  guard.  No,  they  had 
seen  no  bearded  man  in  a  blue  coat.  It  had  been  a 
hot  day  in  the  bazaar.  One  didn't  like  to  think  of 
blue  coats  on  such  a  day.  Even  tonight  it  was  still 
sultry,  but  soon  the  harvest  time  would  be  here,  and 
after  that  the  snows.  Would  the  Excellency  like  a 
fine  melon,  for  forty  hellers — the  only  one  left  in  all 
the  day?  No?  Then  we  will  give  it  to  the  Excellency 
for  nothing. 

The  officer  grinned  and  let  them  pass,  but  he  took 
the  melon.  It  was  after  midnight  for  in  the  distance 
behind  them  they  had  heard  the  bell  of  the  cathedral 
tolling  the  hour.  Safely  past  all  military  barriers, 
Selim.  who  had  had  a  long  day,  yawned  and  clam- 
bered into  the  tail  of  the  cart  to  sleep,  leaving  the 
horse  to  its  own  devices.  But  sleep  was  not  for  Ren- 
wick. His  escape  had  been  accomplished  without  much 
trouble,  and  given  a  little  luck  and  some  skill  he  thought 
he  could  manage  to  lose  himself  quickly  in  the  Austro- 
Hungarian  Empire.  But  the  magnitude  of  his  under- 
taking in  finding  Marishka  was  formidable.  Most  of 
Bosnia  and  all  of  Austria  Hungary  lay  between  Sa- 

267 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

rajevo  and  the  German  border — five  hundred  miles  of 
enemy's  country  to  be  traversed  without  other  re- 
sources than  eighteen  kroner  pieces  and  a  pair  of  some- 
what worn  opankas!  And  after  that — the  heart  of 
the  enemy's  country! 

Eighteen  kroner!  His  own,  probably,  filched  from 
the  pockets  of  the  clothing  he  had  worn  when  he  had 
entered  the  house  in  search  of  Marishka.  His  own 
clothing,  the  disguise  he  had  bought  in  the  bazaar. 
Then  perhaps !  Feverishly  he  felt  along  the  up- 
per lining,  where  he  had  pinned  the  larger  sum  of 
money  he  had  taken  from  his  purse  when  he  had 
changed  from  mufti  at  the  inn  over  in  the  Bistrick  quar- 
ter of  the  town.  They  had  found  it?  Something 
crinkled  under  the  pressure  of  his  fingers,  and  a  pin 
pricked  his  thumb.  It  was  there — his  money.  They 
had  not  searched  for  it,  thinking  of  course  that  the 
money  they  had  found  in  the  pockets  was  all  that  he  had 
possessed.  He  found  the  head  of  the  pin  and  opened 
the  lining,  counting  the  notes — ten  of  them  in  all — of 
one  hundred  kroners  each. 

A  thousand  kroner 's!  He  could  have  shouted  for 
glee.  But  caution  came  to  him  in  time.  He  looked 
around  to  find  that  Selim  had  awakened  and  was  sit- 
ting up  rubbing  his  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XX 
RENWICK  QUESTIONS 

HAD  the  man  observed  him  when  he  was  count- 
ing his  money?  The  hazard  of  his  position 
made  Renwick  suspicious.  Selim  was  a  crafty 
rogue  as  his  conversation  with  the  officer  at  the 
Visegrader  Gate  had  shown,  and  one  of  Zubeydeh's 
breed  needed  watching.  But  the  man  yawned  and 
stretched  his  arms,  then  got  up  and  looked  about 
with  so  genuine  an  air  of  drowsiness  and  fatigue  that 
Renwick  concluded  that  he  had  been  mistaken.  How 
much  or  how  little  Selim  had  been  told  of  Renwick's 
affair  the  Englishman  did  not  know.  But  the  man 
had  already  done  him  a  service  and  might  be  in  a 
position  to  help  him  further.  So  he  decided  upon  an 
attitude  of  friendliness  and  gratitude  which  might 
perhaps  be  measured  by  a  few  of  his  eighteen  kronen 
but  no  more. 

It  was  about  three  o'clock,  when  having  met  no  ad- 
ventures upon  the  way,  they  reached  the  farm  of  Selim 
Ali  upon  the  border  of  the  Roman j  a  Plain.  Twentj 
hours  at  a  stretch,  nine  of  which  had  been  spent  in 
the  tension  of  his  escape,  were  more  than  Renwick's 
strength  permitted,  and  he  sank  upon  the  straw  pal- 
let to  which  Selim  assigned  him,  weary  and  shaken, 
and  with  a  hand  which  instinctively  clutched  the  lining 
of  his  trousers  where  his  money  was  pinned,  he  fell 

269 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

into  a  deep  sleep,  from  which  he  did  not  awaken  until 
the  sun  was  high  in  the  heavens. 

He  did  not  rise  at  once,  but  lay  on  his  cot,  gazing 
at  the  ceiling,  his  mind  adjusting  itself  slowly  to  his 
situation.  He  felt  for  the  money  in  the  lining  of  his 
trousers.  It  had  not  been  touched.  If  Selim  had  dis- 
covered the  notes  in  Renwick's  possession  he  was  either 
without  design  upon  them  or  had  concluded  to  post- 
pone its  consummation  until  some  later  hour.  Where 
was  the  man?  Renwick  wanted  to  talk  to  him.  He 
heard  the  sound  of  a  voice  in  another  part  of  the 
house,  and  getting  up  went  outside  and  walked  around 
to  the  rear  of  the  building.  A  young  woman  in  Turk- 
ish costume  was  washing  some  clothing  in  a  tub  by 
the  door. 

Renwick  greeted  her  with  a  bow  and  a  smile,  and 
asked  for  Selim.  She  pointed  toward  a  distant  field, 
and  then  asked  if  he  desired  food.  Renwick  thanked 
her  and  replied  that  he  would  wait  until  Selim  re- 
turned, and  went  back  to  bed.  There,  some  moments 
later  the  woman  brought  him  coffee,  bread,  and  ex- 
cellent soup,  which  the  Englishman  devoured  hun- 
grily, not  aware  until  the  moment  that  it  was  precisely 
food  he  required.  When  he  had  finished  eating,  he 
smoked  a  cigarette  and  planned  his  pilgrimage. 

He  had  but  two  known  facts  with  regard  to  the 
flight  of  Captain  Goritz  with  his  prisoner;  first,  the 
automobile  had  gone  through  the  Kastele  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  Visegrader  Gate,  over  the  very  road  by 
which  Renwick  had  come  with  Selim;  second,  the  ob- 
ject of  Captain  Goritz  was  to  reach  the  German  bor- 
der as  speedily  as  possible. 

The  fact  that  Goritz  had  left  town  by  this  road  to 
270 


BEN  WICK  QUESTIONS 


the  north  and  east  indicated  one  of  two  things :  that 
Goritz,  seeking  the  more  quietly  to  escape  from  the 
town,  had  chosen  the  road  through  the  Kastele  quar- 
ter, intending  to  make  a  detour  over  the  mountains 
and  reach  the  Bosna  road,  by  which  he  would  go 
straight  through  Hungary  and  Austria  to  his  des- 
tination; the  other  inference  was  that  Goritz  had 
chosen  the  more  easterly  road  to  the  north  in  order 
to  avoid  passing  through  Austria,  seeking  the  shortest 
road  into  Silesia,  through  central  Hungary  and  Galicia 
by  way  of  Cracow.  It  seemed  probable  that  Goritz  had 
already  reached  German}',  and  yet  even  this  was  no 
assured  fact.  If  Goritz  had  chosen  to  return  through 
Austria  by  the  main  traveled  roads,  by  Bosna,  by 
Agram,  or  by  Budapest,  there  was  scarcely  a  chance 
that  he  could  have  eluded  the  agents  of  the  watchful 
Windt.  The  plot  against  the  life  of  the  Archduke  had 
consummated  in  his  death.  Marishka  had  failed,  but 
with  her  failure  had  come  a  restitution  of  her  complete 
rights  as  an  Austrian  citizen.  Herr  Windt,  no  longer 
seeking  to  restrain  her  actions,  would  wish  to  save  her 
from  the  results  of  her  own  imprudences,  redoubling 
his  efforts  to  come  between  Goritz  and  the  German 
border. 

Renwick  tried  to  think  as  Goritz  would  think.  Why 
had  Goritz  come  by  the  circuitous  road  over  the  Ro- 
man j  a  Plain?  Surely  not  to  go  north  by  way  of 
Serbian  territory.  Goritz  had  a  reason.  The  shortest 
road — the  least  traveled  road,  the  road  which  avoided 
Brod,  the  main  gateway  into  Bosnia,  was  the  road  by 
which  he  would  pass  through  the  rural  districts  of 
eastern  Hungary,  proceeding  all  the  while  along  the 
level  country  of  the  Danube  or  the  Thiess,  reaching 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

Silesia — the  long  tail  of  the  German  Empire  which 
thrust  out  between  Poland  and  Galicia. 

Renwick  paced  the  room  with  quick  strides.  The 
theory  hung  together.  And  given  this  to  be  the  plan 
of  Goritz,  had  he  succeeded  in  carrying  it  out?  Pos- 
sibly. But  Hungary  was  wide.  It  was  five  hundred 
miles  at  least  from  Sarajevo  to  the  Carpathians,  and 
much  may  happen  to  an  automobile  in  five  hundred 
miles.  Marishka,  Yeva  told  him,  had  fainted.  It 
would  have  been  inhuman  for  Goritz  to  have  taken  her 
such  a  distance  without  a  chance  for  rest  or  recupera- 
tion. Goritz!  Every  theory  that  Renwick  devised 
seemed  to  fall  to  the  ground  when  he  thought  of  him. 
The  cleverness  of  the  man  was  amazing.  And  what 
lay  behind  his  cleverness?  What  of  decency  or  what 
of  deviltry  lay  behind  the  mask  that  Renwick  had 
seen?  The  man  had  treated  her  with  consideration — 
for  Marishka  had  not  complained  of  his  attitude  to- 
ward her — until  there  in  the  Turkish  house,  when  he 
had  seized  her  by  the  arm.  .  .  . 

Deliberation  had  gained  something — only  a  theory 
as  yet,  but  if  a  theory,  one  which  stood  the  acid  of 
inspection  from  every  angle. 

Renwick's  task  seemed  hopeless,  but  that  spirit  of 
persistence,  of  which  Marishka  had  once  spoken,  was 
one  of  the  dominating  characteristics  of  his  nature. 
Given  a  sound  purpose,  a  worthy  desire,  he  was  not 
easily  dismayed,  and  desperate  as  his  chances  of  find- 
ing Marishka  now  seemed,  it  did  not  enter  his  head 
to  give  up  and  seek  his  way — as  he  might  easily  have 
done — to  the  Serbian  border  and  so  to  safety.  Ma- 
rishka had  forgiven  him!  During  the  long  days  of 
his  convalescence  the  memory  of  their  brief  joyous 

272 


REN  WICK  QUESTIONS 


moments  in  the  Turkish  house  had  renewed  and  in- 
vigorated him.  He  had  heard  her  calling  to  him  across 
the  distances — despairingly,  but  hoping  against  hope 
that  the  man  she  loved  was  still  alive.  It  thrilled  him 
to  think  that  he  could  still  come  to  her — if  she  would 
wait — come  even  from  the  grave  and  answer  her  call 
to  him — the  call  of  one  brave  spirit  to  another,  which 
needed  no  material  fact  of  physical  utterance  to  make 
itself  heard.  He  would  find  her — not  soon  perhaps,  but 
all  in  good  time.  Providence  had  not  saved  him  mi- 
raculously for  failure,  and  it  was  written  that  he  should 
succeed.  The  gods  would  be  with  him  now  and  arm 
him  against  disaster.  He  rejoiced  to  find  how  strong 
he  felt  today.  All  the  tremors  had  gone  out  of  his 
nerves,  and  he  was  ready  to  begin  his  journey  whenever 
it  should  be  time.  But  first  he  wanted  to  question  Selim 
— Goritz  had  passed  this  house — there  was  a 
chance  .  .  . 

Selim  AH  returned  from  the  fields  at  supper  time, 
greeted  Renwick  with  bluff  heartiness,  and  together 
they  sat  at  a  substantial  meal  of  Jung  fern-Brat  en, 
over  which  Selim's  wife  Zaidee  presided.  In  the  light 
of  events,  Renwick  willingly  reconstructed  his  estimate 
of  Selim.  Last  night  Renwick  would  have  been  sus- 
picious of  the  angel  Gabriel,  but  with  the  courage  of 
the  sunlight  had  come  confidence  in  himself,  and  faith 
in  his  star.  It  seemed  that  Zubeydeh  had  told  her 
cousin  nothing  of  Renwick's  nationality  or  predica- 
ment, but  that  he  was  a  friend  who  had  gotten  into 
a  trouble,  and  that  the  police  of  Sarajevo  were  look- 
ing for  him.  Selim  was  to  shelter  him  and  speed  him 
upon  his  way.  Selim  asked  many  questions  which  Ren- 
wick answered  as  he  chose,  biding  his  own  time.  Yes, 

273 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

Tie,  Stefan  Thomasevics,  had  gotten  into  trouble  in 
Sarajevo,  all  because  of  a  woman  (and  this  Renwick 
knew  to  be  true),  and  desired  to  leave  the  country. 
He  did  not  wish  to  go  to  the  war  and  he  would  not 
fight  against  the  Serbians  who  were  not  in  the  wrong. 
He,  Thomasevics,  wished  to  go  north  to  Budapest 
where  he  would  work  in  the  factories  and  amass  a 
fortune.  Selim  wagged  his  head  wisely  and  laughed. 

"You  must  work  long,  my  young  friend,  and  spend 
nothing,"  he  said.  "Come.  You're  a  strong  fellow 
— a  little  weak  just  now  from  smoking  too  many  ciga- 
rettes and  staying  up  too  late  at  night.  But  I  will 
give  you  work  here  upon  my  farm  and  pay  you  well." 

But  Thomasevics  shook  his  head. 

"Thank  you.  You  are  kind,  but  I  have  already 
made  up  my  mind." 

Selim  shrugged  and  lighted  his  long  pipe. 

"As  you  will,  but  I  have  made  you  a  good  offer." 

"A  good  offer.  Yes.  Which  I  would  accept  were 
my  mind  not  set  upon  other  matters."  He  paused  and 
then,  "Selim,  you  are  a  good  fellow.  I  will  tell  you 
the  truth.  I  would  like  to  stay  with  you,  but  I  am 
searching  for  something  which  may  take  me  to  the  ends 
of  the  earth." 

"That  is  a  long  way,  my  friend." 

"Yes,   a  long  way,   when   one  doesn't  know  which  \\ 
way  to  go." 

"Ah,  that  is  even  longer.  There  are  but  two  things 
which  will  take  a  man  like  you  so  far  as  that — 
vengeance,  or  a  woman." 

Renwick  smiled. 

"I  see  that  you  are  wise  as  well  as  clever.  I  go 
for  both,  Selim." 

274 


REN  WICK  QUESTIONS 


"A  woman?     Young?" 

"Yes." 

"Beautiful?" 

"Yes." 

"And  the  vengeance " 

"That  shall  be  beautiful  also." 

Selim  smoked  his  pipe  solemnly  and  as  Renwick  hesi- 
tated, 

"Will  it  please  you  to  tell  me  more?"  he 
asked. 

Renwick  deliberated. 

"Yes.  I  am  groping  in  the  dark.  And  the  dark- 
ness begins  at  Sarajevo.  She  left  there  in  the  night 
— with  him." 

"Ah,  a  man!     Of  course." 

"They  fled  by  the  Visegrader  Gate  and  they  came 
upon  this  road,  past  this  very  house." 

Selim  shrugged. 

"At  night!  It  is  a  pity.  I  might  have  seen  them 
but  I  sleep  soundly." 

"There  are  no  other  houses  for  a  long  distance 
in  either  direction.  They  might  have  stopped  here." 

"But  they  did  not!"  And  as  Renwick  gave  up  des- 
pairingly, "You  see,  I  worked  very  hard  all  last  week 
and  slept  like  a  dead  man." 

"It  was  not  last  week,"  said  Renwick  gloomily,  "al- 
most two  months  ago " 

"Ah,  as  to  that "  and  Selim  shrugged  again. 

"One  has  no  recollection  of  things  that  happened  be- 
fore the  Hegira." 

Of  course  it  was  hopeless.  Renwick  had  only  un- 
raveled the  thread  to  see  how  far  it  would  lead.  Here 
it  broke  off,  and  so  he  relinquished  it.  Rather  wearily 

275 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

he  sank  back  into  his  chair  and  gazed  out  of  the  window 
into  the  sunset. 

Selim's  wife  entered  with  a  tray  to  take  away  the 
dishes.  She  wore  no  yashmak,  for  Selim,  though  pro- 
fessing the  Moslem  faith,  was  somewhat  lax  in  carry- 
ing out  its  articles.  He  did  not  believe  in  running  a 
good  thing  into  the  ground,  he  said.  So  Zaidee  came 
and  went  as  she  chose. 

"I  have  been  listening  from  the  kitchen,"  she  said 
with  a  smile.  "It  is  always  a  woman  that  makes  the 
trouble,  nicht  wahr?" 

"Then  how  can  Paradise  be  Paradise?"  grunted 
Selim. 

"Thou  wouldst  get  on  poorly  without  us,  just  the 
same,"  said  Zaidee  demurely. 

"But  I  should  not  go  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  like 
Stefan,  here." 

"Thou!  Thou  dost  not  know  the  meaning  of  love. 
I  wish  I  could  help  him." 

"It  is  impossible,"  sneered  Selim. 

"But  it  is  interesting,"  sighed  Zaidee.  "She  went 
away  with  another  man — that  is  cruel!" 

"Perhaps  Stefan  is  better  off  than  he  knows,"  said 
Selim. 

"Selim,"  said  Zaidee  with  great  solemnity,  "thou 
art  a  pig!" 

"Pig  I  am  not." 

"Pig!"  she  repeated  with  more  acerbity. 

Renwick  was  in  no  mind  to  take  a  part  in  their 
quarrel  and  was  moving  toward  the  door  of  the  ad- 
joining room  when  a  phrase  caught  his  ear. 

"And  thou  art  a  magpie,  Zaidee,  always  croak- 
ing. It  will  get  us  into  trouble,  thy  talking.  I  hare 

276 


RENWICK  QUESTIONS 


but  to  set  my  foot  outside  the  house  and  thy  tongue 
wags  like  the  clothing  of  a  scarecrow." 

"I  have  done  no  harm,"  she  said  angrily. 

"It  is  no  affair  of  thine — they  will  come  again 
asking  questions.  I  have  no  humor  to  talk  with  any 
of  that  accursed  breed." 

"What  harm  can  come — if  we  tell  the  truth ?" 

"Bah — what  do  the  police  care  about  the  truth?" 

Renwick  turned  and  reentered  the  room. 

"The   police!"   he   said   quickly. 

"Zaidee  talks  too  much.  A  month  ago  in  my  ab- 
sence they  came  inquiring." 

"And  what  wouldst  thou  have  said?"  cried  Zaidee 
angrily.  "To  shelter  a  sick  woman  is  no  crime " 

"I  should  have  said  nothing." 

"And  what  happened?"  asked  Renwick  eagerly,  now 
aware  of  the  bone  that  chance  had  thrown  in  the 
way  of  a  starving  man. 

"In  the  middle  of  the  night  which  followed  the  day 
upon  which  the  Archduke  was  assassinated " 

"And  whose  tongue  is  wagging  now — thou  mag- 
pie?" put  in  Zaidee  spitefully. 

"Be  quiet "  said  Selim. 

Renwick  glared  at  the  woman  as  though  he  would 
have  liked  to  choke  her,  and  she  subsided. 

"An  automobile  stopped  at  my  door.  There  were 
three  people,  an  Austrian  officer,  a  lady  who  was  sick, 
and  a  man  who  drove  the  car.  They  asked  admittance 
on  account  of  the  Excellency  who  was  sick.  I  could 
not  refuse,  for  they  said  that  they  would  pay  me 
well." 

Selim  paused,  hunting  in  his  pockets  for  a  match 
to  light  his  pipe,  and  Renwick,  containing  his  patience 

277 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

with  difficulty,  stood,  his  hands  clenched  behind  him, 
waiting.  They  had  stopped  here — at  this  very  house. 

"And  then ?"  he  asked  calmly. 

"We  put  the  Excellency  to  bed " 

"/  did,"  said  Zaidee. 

"Bah!  What  matter?  They  were  bound  upon  a 
journey  over  the  mountains  to  Vlasenica,  where  the 
Excellency  was  taking  his  wife  for  the  waters." 

"His  wife,"  mumbled  Renwick. 

"They  traveled  at  night  to  avoid  the  heat  of  mid- 
day, but  the  sudden  sickness  of  the  Excellency  made 
further  travel  impossible." 

"The  officer  Excellency  lied !"  said  Zaidee. 

"Be  quiet,  thou !"  roared  Selim. 

"Let  Zaidee  speak.  I  am  no  policeman,"  said  Ren- 
wick. 

"What  interest  is  it  of  yours?" 

Renwick  caught  the  man  by  the  shoulders  with  both 
hands  and  glared  at  him. 

"Merely  because  this  is  the  woman  I  seek.'y 

"An    Excellency  like — and   you?" 

"What  I  am  does  not  matter.  A  hundred  kroner 
if  you  tell  the  truth " 

"A  hundred  kroner !" 

His  eyes  searched  Renwick  eagerly,  and  then,  "There 
is  little  I  would  not  tell  for  a  hundred  kroner, 
but " 

"I  am  not  of  the  police,  I  tell  you.  This  lady  is 
an  Austrian  noblewoman  in  danger." 

"And  the  Austrian  officer " 


"Is  no  Austrian,  but  an  enemy  of  Austria- 

"A  Serb ?" 

"No." 

278 


"Who  are  you?" 

"What  does  that  matter?" 

Selim  shrugged.     "Nothing  perhaps — still " 

"And  if  I  tell  you,  you  will  keep  silent?" 

"A  hundred  kroner  will  make  me  dumb." 

"I  am  an  Englishman,"  said  Renwick  after  a  mo- 
ment. 

"Ah— a  spy !" 

"No.     A  prisoner  who  has  escaped." 

"That  is  better." 

"Speak!" 

And  as  the  man  still  hesitated  Renwick  unpinned 
the  notes  in  his  pocket  and  tossed  one  of  them  upon 
the  table,  in  front  of  him.  Selim  took  it  eagerly. 

"I  am  quite  ready  to  believe  anything  you  say 'A 

But  Renwick  seized  his  wrist  in  a  strong  grip.  "You 
have  not  spoken  yet." 

"I  will  speak,  then,"  said  Zaidee.  "Selim  is  a  fool 
to  hesitate.  I  nursed  the  Excellency  for  two  nights 
and  a  day.  I  cooked  her  eggs  and  chicken  and  soup, 
but  she  would  not  eat.  She  was  very  much  fright- 
ened." 

"The  man — he  treated  her  badly?" 

"Oh,  no.  Very  politely,  and  paid  us  for  our  serv- 
ice, but  the  Excellency  was  frightened.  I  was  kind 
to  her,  and  she  was  grateful,  but  she  spoke  nothing 
of  where  she  was  going.  Perhaps  she  did  not  know. 
But  it  was  not  to  take  the  waters." 

"You,  Selim,"  broke  in  Renwick,  "you  heard  the 
men  speaking?  What  did  they  say?" 

He  shrugged. 

"How  can  I  remember?  They  planned  their  jour- 
ney with  a  map,  but  I  had  no  interest " 

279 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"What  map ?" 

"A  map — how  should  I  know " 

"Of  Hungary- 

"Hungary !"  And  then  scratching  his  head,  "Yes, 
it  must  have  been  of  Hungary,  for  they  spoke  of  Buda- 
pest  " 

"And  what  else  ?    The  Danube — the  Thiess  ?" 

"I  do  not  remember?" 

"You  must !"      Renwick's   fingers   closed   again 

upon  the  hundred  kroner  note  which  Selim  had  put 
back  on  the  table. 

"What  good  would  it  do  if  I  lied  to  you?" 

"Think,  man,  think!  They  made  marks  upon  the 
map?" 

"Marks?     Oh,  yes — marks." 

"Up  and  down,  the  way  they  were  sitting?" 

"Yes.  I  think  so.  By  the  beard  of  the  Prophet! 
You  can't  expect  a  fellow  to  remember  such  things 
as  this  for  two  months." 

"Did  they  speak  of  mountains?" 

"Mountains !"     Selim  scratched  his  head  again. 

"How  should  I  know?" 

"The  Carpathians?" 

"The  Carpathians.     Perhaps.     Ah " 

Selim  tapped  his  brow  with  a  stubby  forefinger. 

"There  was  a  name  they  spoke  many  times.  It  was 
a  strange  name." 

"What?" 

"I   can't  think." 

"Zaidee,  you  heard?"  Renwick  asked. 

"I  was  listening,  but  I  could  not  understand." 

"Was  it  a  city?" 

"I  do  not  know." 

280 


REN  WICK  QUESTIONS 


"Was  it  Cracow?  Kaschau?  Agram?  Was  it 
Briinn?" 

But  they  made  no  sign. 

"Think !"  said  Renwick.  "At  the  top  of  the  map- 
away  from  them — near  the  edge?" 

Selim  shrugged  hopelessly.  "I  can't  remember,"  he 
said. 

Renwick  despaired. 

"Was  the  map  large?" 

"Yes.    I  remember  that.     It  covered  this  table " 

"Ah — then  you  can  tell  me  how  they  stood?" 

"Yes.     I  can  tell  you  that." 

He  got  up  and  placed  himself  at  the  side  of  the 
table.  "The  Excellency  was  here — the  map  spread 
out " 

"Did  he  lean  to  the  left  or  to  the  right?" 

"He  leaned  well  forward  with  both  elbows  upon 
the  table — straight  forward — yes — almost  across — a 
pencil  in  his  hand — the  other  was  pointing.  The 

lamp  was  just  there "  pointing  to  the  left  center 

of  the  table. 

"The  lamp  was  on  the  map?" 

"Yes — to  keep  it  in  position " 

"On  the  left-hand  side?" 

"Yes." 

"And  they  didn't  move  the  lamp?" 

"No.  It  remained  there  until  they  raised  it  to  take 
the  map  away." 

"I  understand.  And  they  made  marks  up  and  down 
with  a  pencil?" 

Selim  shrugged. 

"It  is  what  I  think,  merely." 

"And  the  name  was ?" 

281 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"How  can  one  be  sure  of  a  name?     It  is  a  wonder 
just  now  that  I  can  remember  my  own.     Had  I  known 

what   was    to   happen "      And   he   shrugged   and 

dropped  wearily  again  into  his  chair. 

"And  the  police ?    What  has  Zaidee  said  to  the 

police?" 

"Merely  that  the   Excellencies   were   here — in  this 
house." 

"The  police  are  coming  again?" 

"I  do  not  know.     It  would  seem  that  they  hare  for- 
gotten." 

"And  if  they  come,  you  will  speak?" 

"The  hundred  kroner  will  make  me  dumb." 

"And  Zaidee?" 

"I  will  not  speak." 

"Nothing  of  me,  you  understand.     I  am  but  Stefan 
Thomasevics " 

"It  is  understood." 

"And  you  remember  nothing  more?" 

"Nothing." 

"You  are  sure.     The  Excellency  left  no  message — • 
no  note ?" 

"Nothing." 

Renwick  pushed   the  hundred  kroner   note  toward 
Selim  and  straightened. 

"You  have   done  me   a  service,   Selim.     They  have 
gone  to  the  east  of  the  Tatra •" 

"Tatra !"  suddenly  shouted  Selim  triumphantly.    "It 
is  the  name!" 

"Are  you  sure?"  asked  Renwick  excitedly. 

"Yes.     Tatra — that  is   it.     They  spoke  of  it  for 
half  an  hour.     Eh— Zaidee?" 

"Yes.     It  is  the  name." 

282 


REN  WICK  QUESTIONS 


Renwick  paced  the  floor  with  long  steps. 

"Selim,"  he  said  at  last,  "it  is  now  dark.  I  must 
go  at  once." 

"Tomorrow." 

"Tonight.    The  stars  are  out." 

He  moved  to  the  door  and  peered  out. 

"You  will  keep  silent?"  he  asked. 

"Have  I  not  promised?"  said  Selim. 

He  caught  them  both  by  the  hand. 

"Allah  will  bless  you." 

"A  hundred  kroner — that  is  blessing  enough  for  one 
day,  Stefan  Thomasevics,"  he  laughed. 

"Adieu !"  said  Renwick,  and  walked  bravely  off  into 
the  starlight. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

AN  IMPERSONATION 

AT  least  he  now  had  a  goal — "the  center  of  the 
map,  near  the  top" — the  Tatra  region  by  which 
Goritz  had  passed  (if  he  had  not  been  inter- 
cepted) into  Galicia  and  so  into  Germany.  Aside  from 
the  value  of  Selim's  information,  one  other  fact  stood 
out.  The  secret  service  men  who  had  visited  Selim  a 
month  ago  had  not  returned.  Did  this  mean  that  Herr 
Windt  had  already  succeeded  in  closing  the  door  of 
escape?  The  passes  through  the  Carpathians  could 
of  course  be  easily  guarded  and  closed,  for  there  were 
few  of  them  accessible  to  traffic  by  automobile.  Was 
Renwick' s  goal,  after  all,  to  be  there  and  not  beyond? 
He  had  put  in  one  summer  in  the  Tatra  region  with 
Captain  Otway  of  the  Embassy,  and  he  knew  the  dis- 
trict well, — a  country  of  mountain  villages,  feudal  cas- 
tles, and  rugged  roads.  Gtway  had  been  interested  in 
the  military  problems  of  the  Austro-Hungarian  em- 
pire, and  Renwick  remembered  the  importance  of  the 
Tatra  as  a  natural  barrier  to  Russian  ambitions.  The 
shortest  automobile  road  into  Silesia  lay  to  the  east 
of  the  Tatra  range — and  the  passes  through  the  Car- 
pathians at  this  point  were  few  and  well  known.  By 
process  of  elimination,  Renwick  had  at  last  assured 
himself  that  his  first  theory  was  tenable,  for  Selim  had 
confirmed  it.  A  hundred  conjectures  flashed  into  the 

284 


AN  IMPERSONATION 


Englishman's  mind  as  he  trudged  onward,  to  be  one 
by  one  dismissed  and  relegated  to  the  limbo  of  un- 
certainty. But  assuming  that  Selim  had  told  the 
truth,  Renwick  had  found  the  trail,  and  would  follow 
wherever  it  might  lead  him,  to  its  end. 

His  idea  of  traveling  afoot  by  night  and  of  hiding 
by  day,  at  least  for  the  first  part  of  his  journey,  was 
born  of  the  desire  to  leave  nothing  to  chance.  His 
own  capture  meant  internment  until  the  end  of  the  war, 
or  possibly  an  exchange  for  some  Austrian  in  Eng- 
land. But  they  should  not  catch  him!  Concealed  in 
his  belt  he  wore  the  American  revolver,  and  carried 
some  cartridges  which  Zubeydeh  had  restored  to  him. 

The  weather  fortunately  had  been  fine,  and  the  days 
and  nights  in  the  open  were  rapidly  restoring  him  to 
strength.  The  discomfort  at  the  wound  in  his  body 
which  had  bothered  him  for  a  few  days  had  disap- 
peared. He  was  well.  And  with  health  came  hope, 
faith  even,  in  the  star  of  his  fortunes.  It  took  him 
two  weeks  to  reach  Polishka,  below  which  he  crossed  the 
Save  at  night  in  a  boat  which  he  found  moored  to  the 
bank,  and  daylight  found  him  at  a  small  village  through 
which  a  railroad  ran  north  towards  the  plains  of  the 
Danube.  Here  he  paused  dead-tired  for  food  and  rest. 

The  innkeeper,  who  spoke  German  fairly  well,  swal- 
lowed Renwick's  story,  his  taste  somewhat  stimulated 
by  the  sight  of  the  ten-kroner  piece  which  the  Eng- 
lishman used  in  paying  for  his  breakfast. 

But  the  time  had  now  come  for  the  execution  of  a 
bold  plan  which  for  some  days  and  nights  Renwick 
had  been  turning  over  and  over  in  his  mind.  It  was 
a  good  plan,  he  thought,  a  brave  plan  which  stood 
the  test  of  argument  pro  and  con.  The  British  Em- 

285 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

bassy  in  many  of  its  investigations  during  times  of 
peace, — investigations  of  a  purely  personal  or  finan- 
cial nature, — had  been  in  the  habit  of  calling  in  the 
services  of  one  Carl  Moyer,  an  Austrian  who  ran  a 
private  inquiry  bureau  in  Vienna.  He  was  an  able 
i  man,  not  directly  connected  with  the  secret  service 
department  of  the  Empire,  but  frequently  brought  into 
consultation  upon  matters  outside  the  pale  of  politics. 
Renwick's  interest  in  Moyer  had  been  limited  to  the 
share  they  had  both  taken  in  some  inquiries  as  to 
the  standing  of  a  Russian  nobleman  who  had  ap- 
proached the  Ambassador  with  a  scheme  of  a  rather 
dubious  character.  But  a  physical  resemblance  to 
Moyer,  which  had  been  the  subject  of  frequent  jokes 
with  Otway,  had  now  given  Renwick  a  new  and  very 
vital  interest  in  the  personality  of  the  man  which  had 
nothing  to  do  with  their  business  relations.  Moyer 
was  thinner  than  Renwick,  and  not  so  tall,  but  their 
features  were  much  alike.  When  at  first  the  idea  of 
an  impersonation  had  come  to  Renwick,  he  had  rejected 
it  as  dangerous,  but  the  notion  obsessed  him.  The  very 
boldness  of  the  project  was  in  its  favor.  He  could 
now  move  freely  along  the  railroads  and  if  one  ignored 
the  hazard  of  meeting  the  man  himself  or  someone  who 
knew  him  intimately,  he  could  pursue  his  object  of 
•  following  the  trail  of  Captain  Goritz  with  a  brave 
-I  front  which  would  defy  suspicion.  True,  he  would 
have  no  papers  and  no  credentials,  but  this,  too,  was 
a  part  of  the  guise  of  a  man  who  might  be  moving  upon 
a  secret  mission.  Carl  Moyer,  disguised  as  an  Aus- 
trian of  the  laboring  class,  moving  from  Bosnia  to 
the  Carpathians — what  could  be  more  natural? 
As  Renwick  ate  his  breakfast  in  the  small  inn  at 
286 


AN  IMPERSONATION 


Otok,  he  came  to  a  sudden  decision  to  put  this  bold 
plan  into  practice.  And  so,  exhibiting  another  ten- 
Jcroner  piece,  he  made  known  his  wishes  to  the  inn- 
keeper. He  was  a  Bosnian,  he  said,  but  in  Hungary 
he  did  not  wish  to  attract  attention  by  wearing  his 
native  costume.  In  parts  of  Hungary  there  was  a 
feeling  that  the  Bosnians  who  lived  near  the  Serbian 
border  were  not  loyal  to  the  Emperor  and  this,  it 
had  been  said,  might  make  it  difficult  for  him  to  ob- 
tain employment.  His  purse  was  not  large  but  if  his 
host  would  procure  for  him  a  suit  of  western  clothing, 
a  coat,  a  pair  of  trousers,  a  shirt,  a  cravat,  and  a 
soft  hat,  he,  Thomasevics,  would  offer  his  Bosnian 
clothing  in  exchange  and  do  what  was  fair  in  the 
matter  of  money.  The  train  from  Britzka  did  not  go 
north  for  an  hour.  Would  it  be  possible  to  find  these 
things  in  so  short  a  time?  The  innkeeper  regarded  the 
worn  and  mud-stained  garments  of  his  guest  rather 
dubiously,  but  the  terms  of  the  offer  in  the  matter  of 
money  having  been  made  clear,  the  transformation  was 
accomplished  without  difficulty  and  Renwick  boarded 
the  train  rather  jubilant  at  the  celerity  and  speed  of 
his  journey.  By  nightfall,  with  luck,  he  would  be 
across  the  Danube  and  well  within  the  borders  of 
Hungary,  mingling  in  crowds  where  all  trace  of  his 
identity  would  be  lost.  He  spent  most  of  his  after- 
noon on  the  train  trying  to  recall  the  mannerisms  of 
the  man  Moyer,  a  trick  of  gesture,  a  drawl  and  a 
shrug  which  he  thought  he  could  manage.  Carl  Moyer 
he  now  was,  on  a  mission  from  Bosnia  to  the  North, 
in  which  the  better  to  disguise  himself  he  was  per- 
mitting his  hair  and  beard  to  grow. 

But   success  had  made   him  over-confident,   for  at 
287 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

the  Bahnhof  at  Zombor  where  he  had  to  change  into 
a  train  for  Budapest,  something  happened  which 
drove  all  thought  from  his  head  save  that  of  escape 
from  the  predicament  into  which  his  imprudence  had 
plunged  him. 

He  was  sitting  upon  a  bench  on  the  platform  wait- 
ing for  his  train  when  a  man  approached  and  sat  be- 
side him.  Renwick  needed  no  second  glance  to  reas- 
sure himself  as  to  the  fellow's  identity.  He  was  Spivak, 
Windt's  man,  the  fellow  who  had  kept  guard  on  the 
cabin  at  Konopisht.  The  Englishman  feared  to  get 
up  and  walk  away,  for  that  might  attract  attention. 
So  he  sat,  slouched  carelessly,  his  hat  pulled  well  down 
over  his  eyes,  awaiting  what  seemed  to  be  the  inevitable. 
Spivak — one  of  Windt's  men  sent  of  course  to  Zom- 
bor, one  of  the  important  railway  junctions,  to  watch 
all  arrivals  from  the  south.  Renwick  had  been  ready 
with  his  story  when  he  debarked  from  the  train  but 
there  had  been  a  crowd  and  he  had  been  in  the  last 
carriage.  Renwick's  mind  worked  rapidly,  and  to  an 
imagination  already  prescient  of  disaster,  the  man 
seemed  to  be  inspecting  him.  As  Spivak's  chin  lifted, 
Renwick  faced  him  squarely.  Their  glances  met — and 
passed.  Renwick  calmly  took  out  a  cigarette  and 
bending  his  head  forward  lighted  it  coolly,  aware  that 
the  man  was  saying  something  in  Hungarian. 

Renwick  made  a  gesture  of  incomprehension,  won- 
dering meanwhile  how  he  could  kill  the  man  on  the 
crowded  platform  without  attracting  observation. 

"The  train  from  the  south  was  crowded  today,"  said 
Spivak  in  German. 

"Crowded?     Yes." 

"Do  you  come  from  Brod  or  Britzka?" 
288 


AN  IMPERSONATION 


"From  Britzka,"  said  Renwick  without  hesitation, 
and  then  with  the  courage  of  desperation — 

"I  have  seen  you  before,"  he  went  on,  calmly  puffing 
at  his  cigarette. 

"I  have,  I  think,  the  same  impression." 

"Your  name  is  Spivak — of  the  Secret  Service " 

"You " 

"My  name  is  Carl  Moyer." 

It  was  a  gambler's  chance  that  Renwick  took.  If 
Spivak  intimately  knew  the  man — but  he  did  not  and 
the  effrontery  disarmed  him. 

"You  are  Carl  Moyer?  I  must  have  seen  you,"  he 
muttered.  "I  have  been  in  Vienna  a  little — with  Herr 
Windt,  but  I  am  of  the  Hungarian  branch.  You  have 
been  in  Sarajevo?" 

"Yes,"  said  Renwick  easily  following  out  a  wild 
plan  that  had  come  into  his  mind.  "I  have  been  em- 
ployed by  the  Baroness  Racowitz  to  find  the  Countess 
Marisjika  Strahni." 

"Ah,  I  see.  It  has  come  to  that!"  And  then,  re- 
garding his  companion  with  a  new  interest,  "When 
did  you  come  from  Sarajevo?" 

"Last  night.     It  is  a  strange  case." 

"And  you  have  found  a  lead?" 

"Several " 

"You  can  do  nothing  against  such  a  man  as 
Goritz." 

"It  is  Goritz — yes — but  I  will  find  her  if  I  have 
to  go  through  Germany  with  a  harrow." 

"They  have  not  gone  to  Germany,  my  friend.  Every 
gate  out  of  Hungary  has  been  closed  to  them  since 
the  assassination." 

Renwick  smiled.  The  thing  had  worked.  The  spirit 
289 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

of  the  venture  glowed  in  him — its  very  impudence  fasci- 
nated. 

"Perhaps !"  he  replied.  "Still,  a  man  who  could  out- 
wit Nicholas  Szarvas " 

Spivak  caught  him  so  suddenly  by  the  arm  that 
Renwick  trembled. 

"You    think    he    killed    Szarvas ?"    whispered 

Spivak  eagerly. 

"If  not  himself,  it  was  by  his  orders.  And  the  Eng- 
lishman— Renck " 

"Renwick." 

"I've  found  the  evidence  that  Renck  was  lured  to 
Sarajevo.  He  possessed  a  secret  dangerous  to  Ger- 
many and  so  Goritz  killed  him." 

"And  this  Peter  Langer — who  escaped  from  the  hos- 
pital  ?"  asked  Spivak  cynically. 

"The  chauffeur  of  Goritz,  left  for  dead  in  the  fight 
with  Szarvas  and  stripped  of  his  clothing  to  hide  all 
marks  of  identity.  It  is  no  wonder  that  he  wished  to 

escape "     The  Englishman  broke  off  with  a  rough 

laugh  and  rose.  "But  this  won't  do,  I'm  giving  you  all 
my  thunder.  Herr  Windt  does  not  relish  my  employ- 
ment in  this  service,  but  since  he  has  accomplished 
nothing  you  cannot  blame  my  clients.  I  am  on  mj 
way  to  Germany.  The  surest  way  to  catch  a  fox  is  to 
•  smoke  him  out  of  his  hole." 

Spivak  took  a  few  paces  away,  and  then  slowly  re- 
turned. 

"What  you  say  is  interesting,  Herr  Moyer,  and 
the  theory  hangs  together,  but  you  will  waste  your  time 
in  Germany." 

"Why?" 

"Because  Captain  Goritz  is  still  in  Hungary. " 
290 


"What  further  reason  have  you  for  believing  that 
he  is  here?" 

Spivak  smiled  and  hesitated  a  moment.  And  then, 
"You  have  talked  freely.  One  good  turn  deserves  an- 
other. I  will  tell  you.  We  know  that  Captain  Goritz 
is  still  in  Hungary  because  within  the  past  week  the 
Wilhelmstrasse  has  sent  urgent  messages  to  Vienna  in- 
quiring for  him." 

"Ah — that  is  interesting,"  said  Renwick  slowly,  try- 
ing to  hide  the  throb  of  triumph  in  his  throat.  "Then 
you  think — — ?" 

"Merely  that  he  is  in  hiding — with  the  lady,"  said 
Spivak  with  a  leer.  "It  is  no  new  thing  for  a  man 
to  go  in  hiding  with  a  lady." 

Renwick's  laugh  was  admirably  managed,  for  fury 
was  in  his  heart.  "This  information  is  helpful,"  he 
said.  "You  believe  that  it  is  true?" 

"I  am  sure.  Berlin  is  anxious  because  he  has  not 
returned.  I  do  not  know  what  they  suspect  over  there, 
but  the  situation  is  changed.  The  war  has  made  a  dif- 
ference. We  have  no  idea  where  he  has  gone.  All  that 
we  know  is  that  it  will  be  very  difficult  for  him  to 
get  out." 

In  the  distance  the  train  was  rumbling  up  the  track, 
and  Renwick  was  thankful.  But  he  caught  the  fellow  by 
the  hand. 

"You  are  a  good  fellow,  Spivak.  If  at  any  time 
you  wish  to  leave  the  government  service  and  take  a 
good  place  at  a  fair  payment,  you  will  come  to  see  me 
in  Vienna," 

"Thanks,  Herr  Moyer.  I  shall  remember.  You  are 
going  on  to  Budapest?" 

"Yes.     And  you?" 

291 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"I  am  detained  here  to  watch  for  a  Russian  spy  who 
is  trying  to  get  through  to  the  Galician  border."  He 
laughed.  "You're  sure  you're  not ?" 

"That's  a  good  joke,  Spivak,"  he  smiled.  "A  Rus- 
sian! I'd  have  precious  little  chance "  And  then 

as  the  train  rolled  in — 

"Don't  forget — Ferdinand  Strasse,  Number  83 — 

"I  will  not.     Adieu!" 

"Adieu,  my  friend." 

And  with  a  final  wave  of  the  hand  Renwick  turned 
and  slowly  mounted  into  his  third  class  carriage.  The 
plan  had  worked  and  the  man,  it  seemed,  had  not  the 
slightest  suspicion.  He  was,  as  Renwick  remembered 
from  Konopisht,  not  infallible,  and  the  ease  with  which 
Renwick  had  accomplished  his  object  and  the  remark- 
able nature  of  his  newly  acquired  information  could 
only  be  explained  by  the  fact  that  Spivak  was  seeking 
the  Russian  and  not  himself,  and  by  the  boldness  of 
his  impersonation,  which  had  immediately  pierced  the 
crust  of  Spivak's  professional  reserve.  All  had  gone 
well,  but  it  seemed  an  age  before  the  train  drew  out 
of  the  station.  Renwick  did  not  dare  to  look  out  of 
the  window  to  learn  if  the  man  were  still  there,  and 
until  the  bell  of  the  locomotive  rang  announcing  the 
departure  of  the  train,  he  was  unpleasantly  nervous, 
for  fear  that  a  suspicion  might  dawn  in  the  man's  mind 
which  would  lead  him  to  pursue  the  conversation. 

Renwick  never  learned  whether  Spivak's  second 
thoughts  had  warned  him  that  all  was  not  as  it  should 
be,  for  instead  of  taking  any  chances,  the  Englishman 
got  down  from  the  train  at  the  first  stop  and  disap- 
peared into  the  darkness. 

It  was  with  a  feeling  of  elation  mingled  with  appre- 
292 


AN  IMPERSONATION 


hension  that  Renwick  made  his  way  forward.  Elation 
because  of  the  new  crumbs  of  information,  apprehension 
because  of  the  definite  assurance  that  Goritz  still  held 
Marishka  a  prisoner  somewhere  within  the  borders  of 
Hungary.  Definite  it  seemed,  for  Spivak  had  spoken 
with  the  utmost  confidence  of  things  with  which  he 
was  intimately  concerned.  The  trail  narrowed.  It 
seemed  as  though  Providence,  aware  of  past  imposi- 
tions, was  bent  on  making  amends  to  one  who  had  suf- 
fered much  from  her  disfavor.  The  sudden  appear- 
ance of  Spivak,  which  had  seemed  to  threaten  dis- 
aster, had  been  turned  by  a  bold  stroke  from  calamity 
to  good  fortune.  But  Renwick  determined  to  avoid 
further  such  encounters  if  possible.  And  so,  resuming 
the  mode  of  progress  which  had  been  so  effective  on 
the  way  to  Tuzla,  he  walked  at  night,  and  slept  under 
cover  by  day,  reaching  a  town  upon  the  banks  of  the 
Danube,  where  he  bought  new  clothing,  a  straw  hat, 
a  change  of  linen,  and  a  hand  bag  with  which  (repre- 
senting himself  as  a  grain  merchant  of  Ujvidek).,  he 
boldly  boarded  a  steamer  upon  the  river,  reaching 
Budapest  without  further  incident. 

It  was  not  until  he  had  passed  the  Quai  and  was 
safely  in  the  KaVoly  Korut  that  Renwick  breathed 
easily.  He  was  now  safe,  finding  his  way  to  his  imme- 
diate destination,  the  house  of  a  person  connected  with 
the  English  Secret  Service,  into  whose  care  he  confi- 
dently entrusted  himself. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  NEEDLE  IN  THE  HAYSTACK 

HERR  KOULAS  was  by  birth  a  Greek,  by  citi- 
zenship, an  Austrian,  and  by  occupation,  a 
chemist ;  but  his  real  metier,  concealed  under  a 
most  docile  and  law  abiding  exterior,  was  secret  in- 
quiry in  behalf  of  the  British  government  into  all  mat- 
ters pertaining  to  its  interests,  either  social,  political, 
or  military.  He  knew  his  Hungary  from  Odenburg  to 
Kronstadt,  from  the  Save  to  the  Carpathians,  and  Ren- 
wick,  while  somewhat  dubious  as  to  the  wisdom  of 
his  visit  under  the  circumstances.,  found  himself  re- 
ceived at  this  excellent  man's  home  with  a  warmth  of 
welcome  which  left  no  doubt  in  his  own  mind  as  to  the 
unselfishness  of  his  host.  Even  before  the  war  Ren- 
wick  and  Constantine  Koulas  had  met  in  secret,  so 
that  if  trouble  came  no  plan  should  mar  the  man's 
impeccable  character  in  Austrian  eyes.  And  Renwick 
would  not  have  come  to  him  now,  had  not  his  own 
need  been  great.  But  Herr  Koulas,  having  heard  the 
tale  of  his  adventures  and  reassured  as  to  the  present 
danger  of  pursuit,  gave  willingly  of  his  hospitality  and 
counsel,  and  when  he  learned  the  character  of  Ren- 
wick's  mission,  volunteered  to  procure  him  a  set  of 
papers  which  would  rob  his  pilgrimage  to  the  north,  at 
least,  of  its  most  obvious  dangers.  He  was  ready  with 
information,  too,  and  offered  a  mind  with  a  peculiar 

294 


THE  NEEDLE  IN  THE  HAYSTACK 

genius  for  the  kind  of  problem  that  Renwick  pre- 
sented. The  fact  that  the  great  Prussian  secret  agent, 
Leo  Goritz,  was  involved  in  the  affair  lent  it  an  in- 
dividuality which  detracted  nothing  from  its  other 
interest.  Leo  Goritz !  Only  last  year  there  had  been  a 
contest  of  wits  between  them,  both  under  cover,  and 
Koulas  had  managed  to  get  what  he  wanted,  not,  how- 
ever, without  narrowly  escaping  the  revelation  of  his 
own  part  in  the  investigation.  Goritz  was  a  clever 
man  and  a  dangerous  one,  young,  brilliant,  handsome, 
unscrupulous,  who  wore  an  armor  of  impenetrability 
which  had  not  yet  revealed  a  single  weak  link.  And 
yet,  Herr  Koulas  reasoned,  broodingly,  that  there 
must  be  one.  A  weak  link!  Where  was  the  man  with- 
out one?  The  messages  from  the  Wilhelmstrasse !  Why 
had  Goritz  not  returned  to  Berlin  upon  the  outbreak 
of  the  war?  What  was  keeping  him  in  Hungary?  He 
was  in  the  Tatra  region?  Possibly.  Which  were  the 
passes  by  which  he  might  try  to  go?  Uzoker,  Dukla, 
or  perhaps  even  Jablunka.  The  Russians  were  •  al- 
ready battering  at  Przemysl — Uzoker  Pass  was  out  of 
the  question.  Jablunka — that  was  nearer  the  German 
border,  but  eagerly  watched  even  in  times  of  peace. 
Goritz  would  not  have  dared  to  try  to  abduct  the 
Countess  Strahni  by  way  of  Jablunka!  The  railroad 
went  through  Jablunka,  a  narrow  highway  with  no  out- 
let for  many  miles.  It  was  not  the  kind  of  cid-de-sac 
that  Goritz  would  have  chosen.  Dukla?  Perhaps.  A 
little  farther  to  the  east,  of  course,  but  not  yet  menaced 
by  the  Russian  advance. 

The  thing  was  puzzling,  but  interesting — very.  The 
abduction  of  a  loyal  citizen  of  Austria — a  lady  of  noble 
birth — a  hurried  flight  by  unfrequented  roads  and  then 

295 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

an  impasse!    Had  Herr  Windt  blocked  the  way?    Was 
the  lady  ill?     Or  had  something  else  detained  them? 

Renwick  sat  in  the  back  rocai  of  the  small  labora- 
tory, his  arms  folded,  his  brows  tangled  in  thought, 
as  Herr  Koulas,  puffing  great  clouds  of  smoke  from 
his  long  pipe,  thus  analyzed  the  situation. 

"I  have  thought  of  all  of  these  things,  Herr  Koulas," 
Renwick  muttered,  "and  my  mind  always  comes  back 
to  the  same  point.  If  I  know  that  Goritz  has  come  to 
this  region,  if  I  know  that  he  has  not  gone  out  of  it, 
I  also  know  that  he  remains.  I  do  not  care  why — my 
question  is  where — where?" 

Koulas  ran  his  long  forefinger  over  the  map  upon  the 
table. 

"It  is  the  map  Goritz  might  use — a  road  map  of 
the  government,"  he  grumbled. 

"The  center  near  the  top — Poprad — he  would  get 
through  there  with  difficulty ' 

Renwick  had  risen  and  paced  the  floor  slowly. 

"I  have  not  been  through  Dukla.     It  is  accessible?" 

"Yes.      Svidnik  to  Przemysl.     Rocks — a  schloss  or 

two "  He  turned.     "It  was  there  that  the  Baron 

Neudeck  was  killed — you  remember — three  years  ago?" 

"I  have  forgotten — Neudeck — an  Austrian?" 

"A  German — Neudeck  was  selling  military  plans  to 
the  Russians — Goritz !" 

Koulas  sprang  to  his  feet  triumphantly — "Goritz ! 
It  was  Goritz  who  discovered  him ' 

Renwick  was  listening  eagerly,  and  Koulas  turned 
with  a  shrug.  "Nothing  much,  my  friend.  And  yet — a 
coincidence  perhaps — Goritz,  Neudeck,  Dukla.  Goritz 
— Strahni — 'the  center  of  the  map — at  the  top.'  It 
might  be  worth  trying." 

296 


THE  NEEDLE  IN  THE  HAYSTACK 

"I  shall  try  it.  There  is  nothing  else  for  me  to  do. 
The  Pass  is  used  for  transport?" 

"No.  The  line  of  communication  is  through  Mezo 
Laborcz." 

"It  will  be  risky " 

"Not  unless  you  make  it  so.  With  luck  you  shall 
bear  a  letter  to  General  Lechnitz  (which  you  need  never 
deliver)  as  a  writer  for  a  newspaper." 

"That  can  be  managed?" 

"I  hope — I  believe — I  am  confident." 

Renwick  smiled.  Herr  Koulas  was  something  of  a 
humorist. 

"Tell  me  more  of  this  Neudeck  case,"  asked  the 
Englishman. 

"There  is  unfortunately  little  more  to  tell.  Neudeck 
was  a  German  baron  with  military  connections,  not  too 
rich  and  not  above  dishonesty.  Goritz  traced  the  plans 
to  Schloss  Szolnok,  an  ancient  feudal  stronghold 
which  an  elder  Baron  Neudeck  had  bought "  • 

"In  the  Dukla?" 

" — in  the  Dukla — where  some  Russian  officers  were 
invited  for  the  shooting.  They  did  not  know  how 
little  they  were  to  enjoy  it —  Koulas  chuckled 

and  blew  a  cloud  of  smoke — "for  Goritz  shot  Neudeck 
before  their  very  eyes,  and  took  the  plans  back  to  Ger- 
many. This  is  secret  history — a  nine  days'  wonder — 
but  it  passed  and  with  it  a  clever  scoundrel  who  well 
deserved  what  he  got." 

"And  since  his  death  who  lives  in  Schloss  Szolnok?" 

"I  don't  know."  He  laughed  again.  "You  jump 
very  rapidly  at  conclusions,  my  friend." 

"Time  passes.  I  must  jump  at  something.  I  am  go- 
ing to  Dukla  Pass — tomorrow  if  you  will  help  me." 

297 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"That  goes  without  saying.  For  the  present  you 
shall  go  to  bed  and  sleep  soundly.  I  would  like  to  go 
with  you,  but  alas — I  am  not  so  young  as  I  was  and 
I  can  best  serve  all  your  interests  here." 

Renwick  shook  Koulas  by  the  hand  and  took  the 
bedroom  candle  that  was  offered  him. 

"Good  night,"  he  said.  "I  pray  that  no  harm  may 
come  to  you  from  this  imprudence  of  mine.'* 

"Do  not  worry,  my  friend.  I  am  well  hedged  about 
with  alibis.  Good  night.'* 

The  next  evening  after  dark  Renwick,  now  Herr 
Max  Schoff  of  the  Wiener  Zeitung,  supplied  with  a 
pass  which  Herr  Koulas  by  means  of  his  underground 
machinery  had  managed  to  procure,  took  the  night 
train  for  Kaschau,  which  he  reached  in  the  early  morn- 
ing of  the  following  day,  going  on  later  to  Bartfeld, 
the  terminus  of  the  railroad,  a  small  and  ancient  town 
under  the  very  shadow  of  the  mountains.  Here,  it  be- 
ing late  in  the  afternoon,  he  found  the  Hungaria,  a 
hotel  to  which  he  had  been  directed,  where  he  made 
arrangements  to  stop  for  the  night  while  he  leisurely 
pursued  his  inquiries. 

Now  at  last,  so  very  near  his  destination,  he  was 
curiously  oppressed  with  the  futility  of  his  pilgrimage. 
He  had  come  far,  braving  the  danger  of  detection  and 
death,  for  he  had  no  illusions  regarding  the  status  of 
an  Englishman  approaching  the  battle  lines  under  the 
guise  of  a  newspaper  writer.  If  taken,  it  would  be  as 
a  spy,  and  he  would  be  treated  as  such. 

Herr  Koulas  had  warned  him  not  to  be  too  sanguine, 
for  the  roads  out  of  Hungary  were  many,  and  Dukla 
Pass,  merely  because  of  a  bit  of  forgotten  secret  his- 
tory, a  possibility  not  to  be  neglected.  Herr  Koulas 

298 


THE  NEEDLE  IN   THE   HAYSTACK 

had  also  warned  him  that  the  methods  in  induction 
which  had  been  open  to  him  had  also  been  open  to  the 
Austrian  secret  service  men  who,  perhaps,  had  already 
taken  measures  to  follow  the  same  scent.  And  so  it 
was  that  the  golden  smile  of  Herr  Windt  still  per- 
sisted in  Renwick's  dreams  by  night,  and  in  his  thoughts 
by  day.  If  Spivak  had  told  his  story  of  his  meeting 
with  the  spurious  Moyer,  his  conversation  about 
Szarvas  would  immediately  identify  him  as  Renwick 
the  Englishman.  But  however  near  the  two  trails  ran, 
Windt's  men  had  not  yet  come  up  with  him,  and,  until 
they  did,  Renwick  knew  that  he  must  move  boldly  and 
quickly  upon  his  quest.  And  so  at  last  resolution 
armed  him  anew. 

It  was  now  approaching  dusk,  and  he  cast  about  for 
a  person  to  whom  he  might  talk  without  arousing  sus- 
picion, and  so  he  turned  into  an  inn  at  the  corner  of 
the  street  and  ordering  beer  sat  himself  upon  a  bench 
along  the  wall  before  a  long  wooden  table.  The  few 
men  who  sat  drinking  and  smoking  gave  him  a  curious 
glance,  and  the  proprietor  of  the  establishment,  aware 
of  a  stranger,  felt  it  to  be  his  duty  to  learn  something 
of  his  mission  to  this  small  town  and  of  his  identity. 
This  was  what  Renwick  wanted,  and  as  the  man  spoke 
in  German,  he  told  with  brief  glibness  his  well  rehearsed 
story,  inviting  his  host  to  join  him  in  a  glass,  over  which 
they  were  presently  chatting  as  thick  as  thieves.  He 
was  a  newspaper  writer,  Renwick  said,  upon  his  way 
to  the  front,  and  showed  the  letter  to  General  Lechnitz. 
But  he  had  never  before  been  in  this  part  of  the  country 
and  intended  to  see  it,  upon  the  way.  It  was  aa 
interesting  town,  Bartfeld,  a  fine  church  too,  St, 
Aegidius.  Had  his  host  lived  in  Bartfeld  a  long  time? 

299 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

The  man  was  a  native,  and  very  proud  of  his  tradi- 
tions, expanding  volubly  in  reply  to  Renwick's  care- 
less questions.  His  father  and  grandfather  had  kept 
this  very  inn,  and  indeed  for  all  he  knew  their  fathers' 
fathers.  A  quiet  town,  but  interesting  to  those  who 
were  fond  of  historical  associations.  Renwick  listened 
patiently,  slowly  drawing  the  man  nearer  to  the  sub- 
ject that  was  uppermost  in  his  mind.  It  was  a  short 
distance  to  Dukla  Pass,  a  very  picturesque  spot,  he  had 
been  told,  one  well  worth  a  visit,  was  it  not? 

"Dukla  Pass !"  said  the  man.  "A  name  well  known 
in  the  annals  of  the  country  in  the  days  of  John 
Sobieski,  long  before  the  railroad  went  through  beyond ; 
a  wonderful  spot  with  cliffs  and  ravines.  I  have  been 
there  often.  In  the  season,  before  the  war,  one  drove 
there — for  the  view.  Now  alas!  what  with  the  Cos- 
sacks running  over  Galicia,  the  people  had  more  seri- 
ous things  to  think  about." 

"It  is  easily  reached?"  asked  Renwick. 

"By  the  road  beyond  the  town — a  short  cut — a  climb 
over  the  mountains,  but  not  difficult  at  this  time  of  the 
year. 

"There  is  a  village  there?" 

"A  few  farmhouses  merely,  in  the  valley  along  the 
streams.  The  glory  of  the  Dukla  is  its  ruins." 

"Ah,  of  course,  there  are  feudal  castles " 

"Javorina,  Jagerhorn,  Szolnok " 

"Szolnok!"  said  Renwick  with  sudden  interest.  "I 
have  heard  that  name  before ' 

He  paused  in  a  puzzled  way. 

"It  was  the  summer  residence  of  Baron  Neu- 
deck " 

"Ah,  then  it  is  not  a  ruin?" 
300 


THE  NEEDLE  IN  THE  HAYSTACK 

"Until  three  years  ago  he  lived  there — in  the  habit- 
able part — when  something  terrible  happened.  No  one 
about  here  is  sure — but  the  place  has  an  evil  name." 

"That  is  interesting.     Why?" 

"The  facts  have  never  been  clearly  explained.  The 
story  goes  that  Baron  Neudeck  was  in  the  midst  of 
entertaining  guests — a  hunting  party  of  gentlemen ; 
that  there  was  a  night  of  revelry  and  of  drinking.  One 
of  the  servants,  entering  the  dining-hall  in  the  morn- 
ing, found  Baron  Neudeck  tying  dead  upon  the  hearth 
with  a  bullet  wound  in  his  forehead.  The  guests  had 
disappeared — vanished  as  if  the  earth  had  swallowed 
them." 

"And  the  police?" 

"The  police  came  and  went.  It  was  very  strange. 
Nothing  further  was  heard  of  the  matter.  But  no  one 
about  here  will  go  within  a  mile  of  the  place  after  night- 
fall." 

"And  the  servants — what  became  of  them?" 

The  man  shrugged.  "They  did  not  come  from 
around  here.  They  were  Germans,  who  came  with 
the  Baron.  If  the  police  are  satisfied,  I  am." 

The  man  shrugged  and  drained  his  glass. 

"The  other  castles  are  ruined,  you  say?  Then  it 
cannot  be  long  before  Szolnok  will  share  their  fate — 
since  it  is  not  occupied,"  suggested  Renwick. 

"Perhaps,"  said  the  man  indifferently,  rising  with  a 
view  to  closing  the  conversation. 

Renwick  ordered  another  glass  of  beer,  and  sat  look- 
ing out  of  the  small  casement  window  at  the  passers- 
by,  thinking  deeply. 

The  inspiration  of  Herr  Koulas  had  at  least  set 
him  upon  a  scent  which  still  held  him  true  upon  this 

301 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

trail.  The  information  he  had  received  might  mean 
much  or  little.  German  servants?  Had  Goritz  used 
the  servants  of  Baron  Neudeck  in  unraveling  the  secret 
of  the  stolen  plans?  Had  they  been  implicated  in  the 
affair?  Did  he  hold  them  his  creatures  by  a  knowl- 
edge of  their  share  in  the  guilty  transaction?  Three 
years  had  passed  since  the  killing  of  Neudeck.  What 
had  happened  in  the  meanwhile?  Had  the  title  of  the 
property  passed  to  others?  Had  the  Schloss  been 
occupied  since  the  Baron's  death,  or  was  it  deserted? 
He  evolved  a  theory  rapidly,  determining  to  test  it  at 
once.  It  would  perhaps  be  imprudent  to  question 
further  this  innkeeper,  a  public  character,  and  it  seemed 
quite  probable  that  he  knew  little  more  than  had  al- 
ready been  told.  A  visit  to  the  farmhouses  in  the  val- 
ley would  reveal  something.  He  would  go 

Renwick  had  been  gazing  out  of  the  window,  but  his 
attention  was  suddenly  arrested  by  the  figure  of  a  man 
at  the  corner  of  the  street,  who  stood,  smoking  a 
cigarette.  There  was  nothing  unusual  in  his  clothing 
or  demeanor,  but  the  thing  which  had  startled  Ren- 
wick  into  sudden  alertness  was  the  rather  vague  im- 
pression that  somewhere  he  had  seen  this  man's  face 
before.  A  vague  impression,  but  definite  in  the  sense 
that  to  Renwick  the  face  had  been  associated  with  some- 
thing unpleasant  or  disagreeable.  But  even  as  Ren- 
wick looked,  the  man  tossed  his  cigarette  into  the  cob- 
bles and  turning  on  his  heel  walked  up  the  street,  pass- 
ing out  of  Renwick's  range  of  vision.  The  Englishman 
started  up  from  his  unfinished  glass  with  the  notion  of 
following,  but  a  second  thought  urged  caution.  It  was 
still  light  outside,  and  if  the  stranger's  memory  for 
faces  were  better  than  his  own,  a  meeting  face  to  face 

302 


would  merely  court  unnecessary  danger.  So  Renwick 
returned  to  his  bench  and  made  a  pretense  of  finish- 
ing his  beer,  awaiting  in  safety  the  darkness.  Where 
had  he  seen  this  man  before?  He  searched  his  mind 
with  painful  thoroughness — wondering  if  the  injury  to 
his  head  had  robbed  his  brain  of  some  of  its  clearness. 
He  had  seen  this  man's  face  before — before  his  sick- 
ness— he  was  sure  of  that.  Hadwiger,  Lengelbach, 
Linder — one  by  one  he  recalled  the  secret  service  men. 
The  face  of  the  stranger  was  that  of  none  of  these. 
Someone — a  shadowy  someone — out  of  darkness — or 
dreams.  Could  the  idea  have  been  born  of  some  im- 
aginary resemblance,  some  fancied  recollection?  The 
thing  was  elusive,  and  so  he  gave  it  up,  aware  that  if 
his  brain  had  played  him  no  trick,  there  was  here  an- 
other confirmation  of  his  hope  that  he  was  on  the  true 
scent.  Were  the  threads  converging? 

The  plan  that  he  now  had  in  mind  was  to  go  over 
the  mountains  afoot  and  make  some  quiet  inquiries 
among  the  farmhouses  in  the  valley  below  the  Pass,  in 
regard  to  Schloss  Szolnok.  And  so  as  the  light  had 
grown  dim,  he  got  up  and  went  forth  into  the  street, 
pulling  his  soft  hat  well  down  over  his  eyes,  and  mak- 
ing his  way  tov/ardvthe  road  which  led  to  Dukla  Pass. 
He  verified  the  innkeeper's  direction  by  inquiry  at  the 
end  of  the  main  street,  and  as  the  night  was  clear,  set 
forth  briskly  upon  his  walk  over  the  mountain  roald, 
for  the  idea  of  spending  the  evening  in  inactivity  was 
not  to  be  thought  of  until  all  the  facts  regarding  this 
Schloss  Szolnok  were  in  his  possession. 
I  A  ruin — uninhabited?  And  with  its  crumbling,  his 
own  hope  ...  It  was  no  time  for  despair.  Had 
he  not  come  miraculously  from  death  and  traveled 

SOS 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

safely  from  one  border  of  the  enemy's  country  almost 
to  the  other,  as  though  led  or  driven  by  some  secret  im- 
pelling force — some  inspiration,  some  hidden  guidon 
or  command?  At  each  turn,  at  each  danger,  he  re- 
membered he  had  acted  with  swiftness  and  decision,  and 
had  at  no  time  been  at  a  loss.  Fortune  had  favored 
him  at  each  stage  of  his  journey  and  had  directed  his 
steps  with  rare  assurance  in  this  direction.  Fortune 
or  a  will-o'-the-wisp?  Or  was  Marishka  calling  to 
him?  He  had  had  the  impression  of  her  nearness  often 
— there  in  the  hospital — and  since,  at  Selim  Ali's — 
upon  the  road.  It  seemed  strange  and  a  little  mysti- 
fying  too,  that  he  had  never  doubted  that  he  would  be 
able  to  find  her.  .  .  .  And  now — if  not  at  Schloss 
Szolnok — elsewhere. 

As  the  darkness  of  the  mountain  road  deepened,  swift 
vision  came  to  him.  The  possible  danger  of  attack 
.  .  .  Out  of  the  gloom  of  shadowy  rocks,  he  had  a 
vision  of  men  who  interposed,  barring  his  way,  a  man  in 
a  cap  asking  the  time.  Vienna — the  night  that  he  had 
left  Marishka,  when  the  three  men  had  attacked  him ! 
The  face  of  the  man  in  the  cap,  and  the  stranger  of 
Bartfeld — they  were  the  same! 

He  could  have  shouted  aloud  in  the  joy  of  the  revela- 
tion. The  man  who  had  attacked  him  in  the  streets  of 
Vienna — this  cigarette-smoking  stranger  in  Bartfeld. 
A  German?  Who  else?  Perhaps  the  man  who  had 
shot  at  him — in  Vienna — at  the  Konopisht  railroad  sta- 
tion, a  minion  of  Goritz.  Then  Goritz  could  not  be 
far  away.  .  .  . 

Renwick  strode  down  the  mountain  side  toward  the 
distant  lights  of  the  valley,  like  a  man  in  seven-league 
boots,  searching  eagerly  meanwhile  the  gloomy  peaks 

304 


THE  NEEDLE  IN  THE  HAYSTACK 

above  him  to  his  left  for  signs  of  Schloss  Szolnok.  He 
could  distinguish  nothing  amid  the  deep  shadows  of 
the  mountain  side.  But  the  lights  below  beckoned 
warmly,  and  finding  a  road  to  his  right  at  the  foot  of 
the  declivity,  he  went  toward  them  rapidly,  knocking 
boldly  at  the  door  of  the  first  house  to  which  he  came. 

An  old  man  answered  his  summons,  a  tall  old  man 
with  a  long  pipe  in  his  hand,  who  inspected  the  visitor 
narrowly. 

"I  have  lost  my  way,"  said  Renwick  with  a  smile, 
"and  thought  you  might  let  me  have  a  cup  of  milk  and 
some  bread,  for  which  I  will  pay  generously." 

The  man  in  the  doorway  waved  his  hand  in  assent, 
and  Renwick  followed  him  into  the  house,  where  his 
host  made  a  motion  for  him  to  be  seated.  A  girl  and 
a  woman  sat  by  the  table  knitting,  and  an  old  crone 
sat  in  a  large  chair  by  the  fireplace,  in  which  some 
embers  still  glowed.  Renwick  was  hungry,  but  not 
nearly  so  hungry  as  impatient  for  the  crumbs  of  infor- 
mation that  these  worthy  people  might  possess,  and 
so  he  invented  a  story  while  he  ate  which  the  girl,  who 
spoke  German  more  fluently  than  the  old  man,  trans- 
lated to  her  elders.  The  woman  at  the  table  spoke  a 
little  German  and  shyly  added  her  share  to  the  rather 
desultory  conversation.  Bartfa  was  not  far,  only  a 
few  miles  over  the  mountain — a  short  distance  by  wagon 
or  horseback,  but  something  of  a  distance  for  one  who 
was  weary  and  footsore.  Herr  Schoff  had  come  all 
the  way  from  Mezo  Laborez — and  afoot?  A  news- 
paper writer?  That  was  a  dangerous  occupation  in 
times  like  these. 

Renwick,  having  finished  his  bread  and  milk,  deftly 
directed  the  conversation  to  the  possibilities  of  Dukla 

305 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

Pass  from  the  Russian  point  of  view  as  a  means  of  in- 
vasion of  the  Hungarian  plain,  and  it  was  soon  quite 
clear  that  this  possibility  had  not  been  absent  from 
their  minds.  Renwick  praised  the  effectiveness  of  the 
Austrian  army  which  he  had  seen,  and  quickly  reas- 
sured them.  For  Dukla  Pass,  as  he  had  heard,  was  but 
a  slit  in  the  mountains,  which  the  Austrians  could  easily 
defend.  A  few  guns  upon  the  rocks,  and  a  million  Cos- 
sacks could  not  break  through. 

It  was  encouraging,  the  man  put  in  in  his  patois,  for 
they  had  been  greatly  disturbed  by  rumors  among  the 
country-folk  and  many  soldiers  already  had  passed 
through. 

"It  is  a  place  of  historical  interest,"  said  Renwick 
easily,  "a  Schloss  or  two  perhaps." 

"Javorina — Jagerhorn,  yes — but  mere  ruins,  long 
ago  the  property  of  the  Rakoczi  family.  And  Szol- 

nok "  Here  the  man  paused,  glanced  at  the  girl  and 

the  woman,  and  they  both  made  the  sign  of  the  cross 
with  their  forefingers  at  their  breasts. 

In  the  slight  period  of  embarrassment  which  fol- 
lowed, Renwick  regarded  them  with  a  new  interest.  The 
old  crone  at  the  fireside,  who  had  been  leaning  forward 
with  a  hand  cupped  at  her  ear,  caught  the  significance 
of  the  gesture  and  solemnly  imitated  them. 

"Ah,  I  remember  now,"  said  Renwick  with  an  air  of  • 
seriousness  which  matched  their  own.     "Was  it  not  at 
Szolnok  that  Baron  Neudeck  was  killed?" 

The  old  man  glanced  at  the  others  before  speaking. 

"Yes.     It  was  there,"  he  said  quietly. 

"And  the  place  is  no  longer  occupied?"  asked  the 
Englishman. 

No  one  replied. 

306 


THE  NEEDLE  IN  THE  HAYSTACK 

"There  is  a  mystery  attached  to  Schloss  Szolnok  ?** 
asked  Renwick,  lighting  his  pipe. 

"He  asks  if  there  is  a  mystery,"  said  the  woman 
dully.  And  then  followed  as  before  the  strange  cere- 
mony of  the  cross. 

"I  am  a  stranger  in  these  parts,"  Renwick  went 
on,  "and  no  mischief  maker.  This  story  interests  me. 

I  should  like  to  know "     He  paused  again  as  the 

old  man  leaned  forward  toward  him,  and  laid  his  skinny 
forefinger  along  Renwick's  knee. 

"It  is  the  abode  of  the  devil,"  he  whispered,  and 
then  crossed  himself  again. 

"Ah — something  mysterious " 

"It  is  not  a  matter  which  we  talk  about  in  this  house. 
We  are  poor,  hard-working  people  who  fear  God.  But 
strange  things  are  happening  up  yonder  night  after 
night.  Here  in  the  valley,  we  no  longer  go  near  by 
day — nor  even  look." 

"Ah,  I  see.  Then  the  place  has  long  been  .unoc- 
cupied ?" 

The  old  man  was  silent,  but  the  woman,  gathering 
confidence,  took  up  the  story. 

*  "It  was  always  a  place  of  mystery — even  in  the  days 
of  Baron  Neudeck,  who  was  an  evil  man.  The  servants 
were  strangers  to  our  people  and  spoke  not  at  all.  They 
never  came  into  the  valley." 

"And  they  did  not  come  for  food — for  milk,  eggs, 
butter?" 

"Szolnok  farm  was  above  the  Schloss  upon  the  moun- 
tain side.  They  had  what  they  needed." 

"Ah,  I  understand.  And  since  the  death  of  the 
Baron?" 

"We  do  not  know.    We  do  not  go  there.    Two  years 
307 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

ago  a  young  man  from  this  village  went  there  seeking 
a  sheep  which  had  gone  astray.  He  never  came  back. 
And  the  sheep  skin  was  found  some  days  later  at  the 
foot  of  the  precipice.  And  scarcely  a  month  ago,  a 
venturesome  young  man  from  Bartfa  climbed  the  road 
to  the  castle  in  the  dead  of  night  on  a  wager.  What 
he  saw  no  one  will  ever  know,  for  he  came  running  down 
the  road  to  his  companion  stricken  with  terror,  and 
has  never  spoken  of  the  matter  from  that  day  to  this. 
It  was  a  ghost  he  saw,  they  say " 

"Or  a  devil,"  put  in  the  old  man. 

"And  by  day?    You  see  no  one?" 

"The  Schloss  is  well  within  the  gorge.  I  do  not  go 
to  look,  my  friend." 

"Have  there  been  no  lights  at  night  for  three 
years  ?" 

"None  that  I  remember — until  now." 

"Then  it  is  only  for  a  month  or  more  that  they  have 
been  seen  ?" 

"Perhaps.    I  do  not  know." 

The  man  was  growing  reticent  and  his  family  fol- 
lowed his  example.  The  character  of  the  occupants  of 
Szolnok  was  not  a  popular  topic  for  conversation  in 
Dukla  Valley.  But  this  man  could  help  Renwick,  and 
he  determined  to  use  him.  And  so  as  the  woman  bade 
him  good  night  and  went  upstairs,  Renwick  rose  and 
went  to  the  door,  where  the  old  man  followed  him. 

"It  is  late,  my  friend,"  he  said,  "and  a  weary  walk 
for  me  to  Bartfa.  I  will  pay  you  well  for  a  bed." 

"Willingly,  if  we  but  had  the  room — 

"Or  a  pallet  of  straw  in  your  stable.  I  am  not 
fastidious." 

"Ah,  as  to  that,  of  course.     It  can  be  managed." 
308 


THE  NEEDLE  IN  THE  HAYSTACK 

Renwick  took  out  a  hundred-kroner  note,  and  held  it 
before  the  man's  eyes. 

"If  you  will  do  as  I  ask  I  will  give  you  this." 

"And  what  is  that?" 

"A  place  in  your  stable  tonight — breakfast  at  three 
in  the  morning,  and  the  clothing  you  now  stand  in 

"My  clothing?" 

"No  questions  asked,  and  silence.     Do  you  agree?" 

"But  I  do  not  understand." 

"It  is  not  necessary  that  you  should.  I  shall  do  you 
no  harm." 

"A  hundred  kroner — it  is  a  large  sum " 

"Yours — if  you  do  what  I  ask "  And  he  thrust 

the  note  into  the  old  man's  fingers. 

This  bound  the  bargain. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

SCHLOSS  SZOLNOK 

THE  night  and  day  which  followed  the  terrible 
events  in  the  house  of  the  Beg  of  Rataj  were  like 
an  evil  dream  to  Marishka  Strahni.  She  slept, 
•he  awoke,  always  to  be  hurried  on  by  her  relentless  cap- 
tors, too  ill  to  offer  resistance  or  any  effort  to  delay 
them.  Hugh  Renwick  was  dead.  All  the  other  direful 
assurances  as  to  her  own  fate  were  as  nothing  beside 
that  dreadful  fact.  And  Goritz — the  man  who  sat  be- 
side her — Hugh's  murderer !  Fear — loathing — she 
seemed  even  too  weak  and  ill  for  these,  lying  for  the 
first  part  of  their  long  journey,  inert  and  helpless. 
The  man  beside  her  watched  her  furtively  from  time  to 
time,  venturing  attention  and  solicitude  for  her  com- 
fort, but  she  did  not  reply  to  his  questions  or  even  look 
at  him.  At  the  house  of  Selim  Ali  she  recovered  some 
of  her  strength,  and  again  upon  the  following  night,  at 
a  small  inn  not  far  from  the  Serbian  border,  she  fell 
into  a  deep  sleep  of  exhaustion,  from  which  she  was  < 
aroused  with  difficulty.  The  machine  was  stopped  fre-  ' 
quently,  and  its  occupants  were  questioned,  but  in  each 
case  Captain  Goritz  produced  papers  from  his  pocket, 
which  let  them  pass.  They  were  now  well  within  the 
borders  of  Hungary,  and  as  the  girl  grew  stronger, 
courage  came,  and  with  it  the  thought  of  escape.  But 
m  spite  of  her  apparent  helplessness  she  was  aware  that 

310 


SCHLOSS  SZOLNOK 


her  captors  were  watching  her  carefully,  permitting  no 
conversation  with  anyone,  locking  the  doors  of  the 
rooms  in  which  she  slept,  at  the  houses  where  they 
stopped,  and  taking  turns  at  keeping  guard  outside. 
But  their  very  precautions  gave  her  an  appreciation  of 
the  risks  that  they  ran.  She  was  a  prisoner  in  her  own 
country.  All  those  she  passed  upon  the  road  were  her 
friends.  She  had  only  to  make  her  identity  known,  and 
the  object  of  her  captors,  to  gain  her  freedom.  She 
was  somewhere  in  eastern  Hungary,  but  just  where 
she  did  not  know.  The  chauffeur  spoke  the  language 
fluently,  and  Marishka's  ignorance  of  it  made  her  task 
more  difficult.  But  one  night  at  an  inn  in  a  small  vil- 
lage, she  found  a  girl  who  spoke  German,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment when  the  attention  of  her  guards  was  relaxed, 
she  managed  to  make  the  girl  understand,  promising 
her  a  sum  of  money  if  she  would  summon  the  police 
of  the  town,  to  whom  Marishka  would  tell  her  story. 
The  girl  agreed,  and  in  the  early  morning  just  as  the 
machine  came  around  to  the  door  Goritz  found  him- 
self" confronted  by  two  men  in  uniform. 

Marishka,  who  had  been  waiting,  trembling,  in  her 
room  above,  came  running  down  the  stairs  and  threw 
herself  upon  their  mercy,  telling  her  story  and  begging 
their  intercession. 

But  even  as  she  spoke  she  realized  that  the  very  wild- 
ness  of  her  narrative  was  against  its  verity  in  the  minds 
of  these  rustic  policemen. 

"It  is  an  extraordinary  tale,"  said  the  elder  man, 
"and  one  which  of  course  must  be  investigated — an  ab- 
duction !" 

"If  you  will  permit  me,"  said  Goritz  smiling  calmly. 
"This  lady  is  my  wife.  I  am  taking  her  to  the  north 

311 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

for  the  baths.  As  you  observe,  she  is  the  subject  of 
delusions " 

"It  is  not  true,"  cried  Marishka  despairingly.  "I 
beseech  you  to  listen — to  investigate " 

"I  regret,"  said  Goritz,  with  a  glance  at  his  watch, 
"that  I  have  no  time  to  delay.  I  am  Lieutenant  von 
Arnstorf  of  the  Fifteenth  Army  Corps,  bearing  a  safe 
conduct  from  General  von  Hoetzendorf ,  which  all  police 
officers  of  the  Empire  are  constrained  to  respect.  Read 
for  yourself." 

And  he  handed  them  the  magic  paper  which  already 
had  done  him  such  service.  The  men  read  it  through 
with  respect  and  not  a  little  awe,  bestowing  at  the  last 
a  pitying  glance  upon  Marishka,  which  too  well  indi- 
cated their  delicacy  in  interfering  in  the  affairs  of  one 
in  such  authority. 

"And  you  will  not  summon  the  mayor?  What  I  tell 
is  the  truth.  In  the  name  of  the  Holy  Virgin,  I 
swear  it." 

One  of  the  men  crossed  himself  and  turned  away. 
Goritz  had  already  laid  his  fingers  firmly  upon  her 
arm  and  guided  her  toward  the  machine. 

"Come,  Anna,"  he  said  in  a  sober,  soothing  tone, 
"all  will  be  well— all  will  be  well." 

And  so  Marishka,  with  one  last  despairing  glance  in 
the  direction  of  the  two  officers,  permitted  herself  to 
be  handed  into  the  machine  by  Captain  Goritz  who, 
before  the  automobile  departed,  handed  a  piece  of 
money  to  the  girl  who  had  done  Marishka  this  service. 
The  last  glimpse  that  Marishka  had  of  the  police 
officers  showed  them  standing  side  by  side,  their  fingers 
at  their  caps.  Her  case  was  hopeless.  She  had  no 
friend,  it  seemed,  in  all  Hungary,  and  she  abandoned 

312 


SCHLOSS  SZOLNOK 


herself  to  the  depths  of  her  despair.     How  could  she 
have  expected  to  cope  with  such  a  man  as  this? 

Goritz  said  nothing  to  her  of  warning  or  of  re- 
proach, but  in  the  same  afternoon,  after  drinking  a 
cup  of  coffee  which  he  urged  upon  her,  she  became 
drowsy  and  slept. 

She  awoke  in  a  large  room  with  walls  of  panelled 
wood,  and  a  groined  ceiling.  She  lay  upon  a  huge  bed, 
raised  high  above  the  floor,  over  the  head  of  which 
was  a  faded  yellow  silken  hanging.  Her  surroundings 
puzzled  her,  but  she  seemed  to  have  no  desire  to  learn 
the  meaning  of  it  all,  lying  as  one  barely  alive,  gazing 
half  conscious  toward  the  narrow  Gothic  window  near 
by,  through  which  she  had  a  glimpse  of  mountains  and 
blue  sky.  But  the  sunlight  which  fell  in  patches  upon 
the  Turkey  rug  dazzled  her  aching  eyes,  and  she  closed 
them  painfully.  She  felt  wretchedly  ill.  Her  throat 
was  parched,  and  her  body  was  so  weak  that  even  to 
move  her  hand  had  been  an  effort.  She  slept  again, 
woke  and  slept  again,  aware  now,  even  in  her  stupor, 
of  someone  moving  near  her  in  the  room.  At  last 
with  all  the  will-power  left  at  her  command,  she  opened 
wide  her  eyes  and  raised  herself  upon  an  elbow.  It  was 
night,  but  lamps  upon  two  tables  shed  a  generous  glow. 

As  she  moved,  a  figure  that  had  sat  near  the  foot  of 
the  bed,  rose  and  came  toward  her.  It  was  a  very  old 
woman  with  a  wrinkled  face  and  the  inturned  lips  of  the 
toothless.  But  her  face  was  kindly,  and  her  voice  when 
she  spoke  had  in  it  a  note  of  commiseration. 

"The  Excellency  is  feeling  stronger?"  she  asked. 

''I — I  do  not  know,"  said  Marishka  painfully  strug- 
gling to  make  her  lips  enunciate.  "I — I  still  feel  ill. 
What  is  this  place?" 

SIS 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"Schloss  Szolnok,  Excellency,  in  the  Carpathians." 
She  laid  her  rough  hand  over  Marishka's.  "You  hare 
some  fever.  I  will  get  medicine." 

"A — a  glass  of  water " 

"At  once."  The  woman  moved  away  into  the 
shadows  and  Marishka  tried  to  focus  her  eyes  upon  the 
objects  in  the  room — large  chests  of  drawers,  and 
tables,  a  cheval  glass,  a  prie-dieu,  a  carved  escritoire 
with  ormolu  mountings,  a  French  dressing  table,  por- 
traits let  into  the  panelling,  massive  oaken  chairs,  well 
upholstered — a  room  of  some  grandeur.  Schloss  Szol- 
nok? What  mattered  it  where  she  was?  Death  at  Schloss 
Szolnok  could  be  no  worse  than  death  elsewhere.  Weak- 
ness overpowered  her,  and  she  sank  back  into  her  pil- 
low, aware  of  her  throbbing  temples  and  a  terrible  pain 
that  racked  her  breast.  Death.  Hugh,  too.  He  was 
calling  to  her.  She  would  come.  Hugh!  With  his 
name  upon  her  lips  she  sank  again  into  unconscious- 
ness. 

For  weeks,  the  very  weeks  that  Hugh  Renwick  lay  in 
the  Landes  Hospital,  Marishka  lay  upon  the  tall  bed  in 
the  great  room  at  Schloss  Szolnok,  struggling  slowly 
back  to  life  from  the  clutches  of  pneumonia.  There  was  a 
doctor  brought  from  Mezo  Laborcz,  who  stayed  in  the 
castle  for  a  week  until  the  danger  point  had  passed, 
and  then  came  every  few  days  until  the  patient  was 
well  upon  the  road  to  recovery.  Marishka  did  not 
learn  of  this  until  much  later  when,  convalescent,  she 
sat  by  the  window,  looking  out  over  the  sunlit  moun- 
tains beyond  the  gorge,  and  then  in  wonder  and  some- 
thing of  disappointment  that  Goritz  had  not  permitted 
her  to  die.  And  when  the  old  woman,  who  bore  the 
name  of  Ena,  related  that  the  Herr  Hauptmann  had 

314 


SCHLOSS  SZOLNOK 


himself  driven  the  automobile  which  brought  the  doc- 
tor in  the  dead  of  night  to  Szolnok,  the  wonder  grew. 
Marishka  had  learned  to  think  of  Goritz  as  one  inter- 
ested only  in  her  death  or  imprisonment,  and  after 
Sarajevo  she  had  even  believed  that  her  life  while  in 
his  keeping  had  hung  by  a  hair.  He  had  killed  Hugh, 
brought  her  into  this  far  country  against  her  will,  had 
even  drugged  her  that  he  might  avoid  a  repetition  of 
her  attempt  at  escape.  And  now  he  was  sparing  no 
pains  to  bring  her  back  to  health,  daily  sending  her 
messages  of  good  will  and  good  wishes,  with  flowers 
from  the  garden  in  the  courtyard,  which,  as  Ena  had 
reported,  he  had  plucked  with  his  own  hand.  It  was 
monstrous ! 

A  few  mornings  ago  he  had  written  her  a  note  say- 
ing that  he  awaited  her  pleasure,  craving  the  indulgence 
cf  a  visit  at  the  earliest  moment  that  she  should  care 
to  see  him.  Marishka,  much  to  Ena's  chagrin,  had  sent 
no  reply.  The  very  thought  of  kindness  from  such  a 
man  as  Goritz — a  kindness  which  was  to  pay  for 
Hugh's  death  and  her  favor,  made  a  mockery  of  all  the 
beauties  of  giving — a  mockery,  too,  of  her  acceptance 
of  them,  whether  tacitly  or  otherwise.  A  man  who  could 
kill  without  scruple,  a  woman-baiter,  courteous  that 
he  might  be  cruel,  tolerant  that  he  might  torment !  By 
torture  of  her  spirit  and  of  her  body  he  had  brought 
her  near  death  that  he  might  gain  the  flavor  of  saving 
her  from  it. 

He  was  of  a  breed  of  being  with  which  her  experience 
was  unfamiliar.  The  note  of  sentiment  in  his  notes, 
while  it  amazed,  bewildered  and  frightened  her  a  little. 
She  was  completely  in  the  man's  power.  What  was 
Schloss  Szolnok?  Who  was  its  owner?  Ena  would  not 

315 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

talk ;  she  had  received  instructions.  Before  her  win- 
dows was  spread  a  wonderful  vista  of  mountains  and 
ravines,  which  changed  hourly  in  color,  from  the 
opalescent  tints  of  the  dawn,  through  the  garish 
spectrum  of  daylight  to  the  deep  purple  shadows  of  the 
sunset,  to  the  crepuscular  opalescence  again.  Under 
any  other  conditions,  she  would  have  been  content  to 
sit  and  muse  alone  with  her  grief — and  Hugh.  He  was 
constantly  present  in  her  thoughts.  It  was  as  though 
his  spirit  hovered  near.  She  seemed  to  hear  him  speak, 
to  feel  the  touch  of  his  hand  upon  her  brow,  soothing 
her  anguish,  praying  her  to  wait  und  be  patient.  Some- 
times the  impression  of  his  presence  beside  her  was  so 
poignant  that  she  started  up  from  her  chair  and  looked 
around  the  vast  room,  as  though  expecting  him  to  ap- 
pear in  the  spirit  beside  her.  And  then  realizing  that 
the  illusions  were  born  of  her  weakness,  she  would  sink 
back  exhausted,  and  resume  her  gaze  upon  the  restful 
distance. 

Ena,  her  nurse,  was  very  kind  to  her,  leaving  nothing 
undone  for  her  comfort,  sitting  most  of  the  while  beside 
her,  and  prattling  of  her  own  youth  and  the  Father- 
land. And  so,  sure  of  the  woman's  growing  interest 
and  affection,  she  slowly  revealed  the  story  of  Kono- 
pisht  Garden,  her  share  in  it,  and  the  events  that  had 
followed.  Marishka  could  see  that  the  woman  was 
greatly  impressed  by  the  story  which  lost  no  convic- 
tion from  the  pallid  lips  which  told  it.  And  of  her  own 
volition,  that  night,  Ena  promised  the  girl  to  reveal 
no  word  of  her  confidences,  and  gave  unreservedly  the 
outward  signs  of  her  friendship  for  the  tender  creature 
committed  to  her  care.  She  had  believed  that  the  kind- 
ness of  the  Herr  Hauptmann  had  meant  the  beginning* 

316 


SCHLOSS  SZOLNOK 


of  a  romance.  But  she  understood,  and  aware  of  the 
sadness  of  the  sick  woman's  thoughts,  did  what  she 
eould  to  delay  a  meeting  which  she  knew  must  be  pain- 
ful. 

In  reply  to  Marishka's  questions,  now,  she  was  less 
reticent,  and  told  of  the  long  years  at  Schloss  Szolnok 
under  the  Barons  Neudeck,  father  and  son,  of  the  com- 
ing of  Herr  Hauptmann  Goritz,  and  of  the  threat  which 
had  hung  over  them  for  three  years  since  the  dreadful 
night  when  her  young  master  had  been  killed.  There 
had  been  no  heirs  to  the  estate  and  no  one  knew  to 
whom  the  half-ruined  Schloss  belonged,  but  each  month 
money  had  arrived  from  Germany,  and  so  she  and 
Wilhelm  Strohmeyer,  her  man,  and  two  other  servants 
under  orders  from  Germany,  had  remained.  She  had 
lived  here  almost  all  her  life.  The  people  in  the  vil- 
lage a  mile  away  were  the  nearest  human  folk,  and 
Baron  Neudeck  had  not  endeared  himself  to  them,  for 
once  he  had  beaten  a  farmer  who  had  questioned  the 
Excellency's  right  to  shoot  upon  his  land.  And  so 
the  country  people  passed  aside  and  did  not  venture 
up  the  mountain  road  which  indeed  had  become  over- 
grown with  verdure.  And  for  their  part  the  servants 
were  contented  to  stay  alone.  It  was  very  quiet,  but 
as  good  a  place  to  die  in  as  any  other. 

Marishka  listened  calmly,  trying  to  weave  the  com- 
plete story  and  Captain  Goritz's  part  in  it.  Whether 
Schloss  Szolnok  was  or  was  not  the  property  of  the 
German  government — and  it  seemed  probable  that  it 
would  have  been  confiscated  upon  the  discovery  of 
Baron  Neudeck's  treachery — the  fact  was  clear  that 
Goritz  was  now  its  occupant  and  master.  She  had 
not  dared  to  wonder  what  was  still  in  store  for  her  at 

317 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

the  hands  of  Captain  Goritz,  and  had  lived  from  day 
to  day  in  the  hope  that  something  might  happen  which 
would  end  her  imprisonment  and  martyrdom.  She 
heard  nothing  from  the  outside,  and  Ena,  who  had 
long  ago  given  up  the  world,  was  in  no  position  to  in- 
form her. 

But  as  she  gained  her  strength,  Marishka  knew  that 
she  could  not  longer  deny  herself  to  Captain  Goritz. 
The  mirror  showed  her  that  her  face,  while  thin  and 
wan,  was  still  comely.  Wisdom  warned  her  that  how- 
ever much  she  loathed  the  man,  every  hope  of  liberty 
hung  upon  his  favor.  And  so  she  gained  courage  to 
look  about  her  and  to  plan  some  means  of  outwitting 
him  or  some  mode  of  escape  from  durance.  The  latter 
alternative  seemed  hopeless,  for  it  seemed  that  the  castle 
was  built  upon  a  lonely  crag,  its  heavy  walls,  which 
dated  from  feudal  times,  imbedded  in  the  solid  rock. 
From  her  bedroom  window,  below  the  buttressed  stone, 
were  precipitous  cliffs  which  fell  sheer  and  straight  to 
the  rocky  bed  of  the  stream  which  rushed  through  the 
ravine  two  hundred  meters  below.  But  there  would  be 
other  modes  of  egress,  and  so,  feeling  that  her  strength 
was  now  equal  to  the  task,  she  determined  to  go  forth 
and  test  the  cordon  which  constrained  her.  One  morn- 
ing, therefore,  she  called  Ena's  attention  to  her  pallid 
face  and  suggested  the  sunlight  of  the  garden  as  a 
means  to  restoration.  The  woman  was  delighted,  and 
attired  in  a  costume  of  soft  white  silk  crepe,  which 
she  had  fashioned  in  her  convalescence  from  some 
posthumous  finery  that  Ena  had  discovered,  Marishka 
walked  forth  of  her  room  down  a  stone  stairway 
into  the  great  hall  of  the  castle,  and  so  into  the  ancient 
courtyard  where  the  flower  garden  was.  She  had  ex- 

318 


SCHLOSS  SZOLNOK 


pected  Captain  Goritz  to  join  her,  and  in  this  surmise 
she  was  not  mistaken,  for  she  had  culled  an  armful  of 
blossoms  which  she  sent  to  her  room  by  Ena  when  the 
German  appeared.  She  heard  his  voice  behind  her, 
even  before  she  had  summoned  courage  for  the  inter- 
view. 

"My  compliments  upon  your  appearance,  Countess," 
he  said  soberly.  "I  hope  that  you  find  yourself  well 
upon  the  road  to  recovery." 

"Thanks,"  she  replied  in  a  stifled  tone.  "I  am  feel- 
ing much  stronger." 

"It  has  been  a  very  pitiful  experience  for  you — one 
which  has  caused  me  many  qualms  of  conscience,"  he 
muttered,  "but  I  have  tried  to  atone  and  would  beg 
you  to  believe  that  all  my  happiness  for  the  future  de- 
pends upon  your  forgiveness." 

"I  can — never  forgive — never "  said  Marishka, 

her  throat  closing  painfully.  "I  hoped  to  die,"  she 
sighed,  "but  even  that  you  denied  me." 

"I  have  only  done  my  duty — my  duty,  Countess — a 
sweeter  duty  than  that  which  urged  me  to  Vienna — to 
undo  the  wrong  that  I  have  done  you,  to  bring  again 
the  roses  into  your  cheeks." 

She    waved   her   hand   in    deprecation.     "For   your 
courtesy,  for  the  kindness  of  your  servants,  I  thank  you. 
But  for  what  you  are  yourself — only  the  God  that) 
made  you  can  understand — can  forgive — that." 

He  straightened  a  moment  and  then  slowly  leaned 
against  the  wall  beside  her,  his  chin  cupped  in  his  hand. 

"You  are  cruel " 

"I  am  truthful.  Anything  else  from  me  to  you  would 
be  beneath  my  womanhood.  I  would  kill  you  if  I  had 
the  strength  or  if  I  dared."  She  gave  a  bitter  laugh. 

319 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"It  is  at  least  something,  that  we  understand  each 
other." 

He  paused  a  long  moment  before  replying. 

And  then,  "Z)o  we  understand  each  other?  I  hope 
that  you  will  permit  me  to  speak  a  few  words  in  ex- 
tenuation of  a  person  you  have  never  known — of  Leo 
Goritz,  the  man." 

"A  man  who  makes  war  upon  a  woman — who  use* 
violence  to  compel  obedience " 

"A  woman — but  an  enemy  to  my  country.  Between 
my  duty  to  Germany  and  my  own  inclinations,  I  had  no 
choice.  I  was  an  instrument  of  the  State,  pitiless,  exact 
and  exacting.  You  have  spoken  the  truth.  So  shall  I. 
Had  my  duty  to  Germany  required  it  of  me,  I  should 
have  killed  you  with  my  own  hand — even  if  you  had 
been  my  sister." 

She  gazed  at  him  with  alien  eyes. 

"It  is  monstrous !     I  would  to  God  you  had." 

He  bowed. 

"That  is  merely  my  official  conception  of  mj  obliga- 
tion to  the  Fatherland,"  he  said  quietly. 

She  still  gazed  at  him  unbelieving,  but  he  met  her 
glance  squarely. 

"You  need  not  believe  me  unless  you  choose,  but  I 
speak  the  truth.  My  orders  were  to  bring  you  safely 
into  Germany,  or  to — to  eliminate  you.  Perhaps  you 
will  understand  now  my  difficulties  in  keeping  you  un- 
scathed." 

"My  death  would  have  relieved  you  of  that  respon- 
sibility. It  would  have  been  so  easy  to  have  let  me 
die " 

"I  could  not!"  He  bent  his  head  over  his  folded 
arms.  "I  could  not,"  he  repeated.  And  then,  after  a 

320 


SCHLOSS  SZOLNOK 


silence,  "Countess  Strahni,  I  beg  that  you  will  consider 
that  I  have  succeeded  so  far  in  saving  you  from  per- 
sonal danger." 

"And  yet  you  used  me  as  a  shield  to  save  yourself 

from  the  bullets  of  the  man  you  killed "  She  broke 

off,  laughing  bitterly. 

"He  would  not  fire.  I  knew  it.  He  was  a  fool  to  give 
me  the  chance.  I  took  it.  There  was  nothing  else " 

"It  was  murder.    And  you 

She  glanced  at  him  once  and  then  turning  away,  hid 
her  head  in  her  arm.  "O  God !"  she  whispered,  as 
though  to  herself.  "How  I  loathe  you !" 

Though  the  words  were  not  even  meant  for  him  to 
hear,  he  did  not  miss  them. 

"That  is  your  privilege,"  he  said  after  a  moment, 
"and  mine — to — to  adore  you,"  he  said  in  deep  accents. 

Slowly  she  lowered  her  hands  and  gazed  at  him  with 
eyes  that  though  they  looked,  seemed  to  see  not. 

"You — you — /  You  care  for  me!"  She  dropped  her 
hands  to  her  sides,  and  then  with  a  voice  that  sought 
steadiness  in  its  contempt,  "What  object  has  the 
Fatherland  to  gain  by  this  new  hypocrisy,  Herr 
Goritz?" 

He  stood  stock  still,  making  no  effort  to  approach 
her. 

"I  think  you  do  me  some  injustice,"  he  said. 

"Injustice !"  she  said  coldly.  "7  do  you  injustice?  I 
think  you  forget." 

"If  you  will  permit — it  is  only  fair  at  least  that  you 
should  listen.  Even  if  what  I  say  does  not  interest 
you." 

She  waved  a  hand  in  a  gesture  of  deprecation — but 
he  went  on  rapidly  in  spite  of  her  protest,  with  an  air 

321 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

of  pride,  which  somehow  robbed  the  confession  of  its 
sincerity. 

"Your  words  have  been  cruel,  Countess,  but  the 
cruelest  were  those  in  which  you  attribute  the  highest 
motive  of  my  life  to  the  baseness  of  hypocrisy.  I  have 
,  done  many  wrongs,  broken  many  oaths,  sinned  many 
sins — in  the  interests  of  my  country — the  service  of 
"which  has  been  the  only  aim  of  my  existence.  I  have 
been  entrusted  by  the  Emperor  himself  with  missions 
which  would  have  tested  the  courage  of  any  man,  and  I 
have  not  failed.  That  is  my  pride — the  glory  of  my 
manhood,  for  the  means  of  accomplishment  no  matter 
how  unworthy,  are'  unimportant  compared  with  the 
great  mission  of  the  Germanic  race  in  the  betterment 
of  humanity. 

"I  fail  to  see,  Herr  Hauptmann,  how ': 

He  commanded  her  silence  with  an  abrupt  gesture. 

"If  you  will  be  pleased  to  bear  with  me  a  little  longer. 
Bitte.  I  shall  not  be  very  long.  I  merely  wanted  you 
to  understand  how  my  whole  life  has  been  devoted  to  the 
great  uses  of  the  State,  with  the  most  unselfish  motives. 
I  have  been  not  a  human  sentient  being,  but  a  highly 
specialized  physical  organism  to  which  any  wish,  any 
emotion,  unless  of  service  to  the  state,  was  forbidden. 
Charity,  kindness,  altruism,  all  the  gentler  emotions — 
I  foreswore  them.  I  relinquished  friendship.  I  became 
a  pariah,  an  outcast,  save  to  those  few  beings  from 
whom  I  took  my  orders,  and  to  them  I  was  merely  the 
piece  of  machinery  which  always  accomplished  its  tasks. 
I  have  had  no  happiness,  no  friendships,  no  affection, 
but  I  am  the  most  famous  secret  agent  in  Germany. 
A  somber  picture,  is  it  not?" 

He  paused  and  shrugged  expressively.    And  then  his 


SCHLOSS  SZOLNOK 


voice  lowered  a  note.  "Perhaps  you  will  believe  me  when 
I  say  that  my  whole  existence  is  a  living  lie.  Ah,  yes, 
you  think  that.  It  is  a  lie,  Countess,  because  no  human 
being  can  defy  the  living  God  that  is  within  him.  He 
cannot  forever  quell  the  aspirations  of  the  spirit.  The 
spark  is  always  alight.  Sometimes  it  glows  and  fades, 
but  sometimes  a  worthy  motive  sets  it  on  fire.  It  is 
that  spark  which  has  survived  in  me,  Countess  Strahni, 
in  spite  of  my  efforts — my  desires  even — to  deny  its 
existence.  Your  illness ' 

"Herr  Hauptmann,  I  beg  of  you " 

"No.  You  cannot  deny  me.  I  nursed  you,  there — 
brought  you  back  to  life.  Ah,  you  did  not  know.  I 
brought  a  doctor  at  the  hazard  of  the  discovery  of  my 
hiding  place.  Charity  came,  love " 

"Herr  Hauptmann,  I  forbid  you,"  whispered  Ma- 
rishka  chokingly,  wondering  now  why  she  had  listened 
to  him  for  so  long.  "I  must  go — go  to  my  room." 

Goritz  straightened  and  stood  aside. 

"You  need  not  fear  me,  Countess,"  he  said.  "You 
see?"  he  added  quickly.  "I  do  not  touch  you." 

Marishka  moved  a  few  paces  away  and  then  turned  to 
look  at  him.  He  stood  erect,  smiling  at  her,  his  cap  in 
his  hand. 

"I — I  must  go  to  my  room,  Herr  Hauptmann,"  she 
murmured  haltingly.  "I — I  am  yet — far  from  strong." 

"I  am  sorry.  I  pray  that  you  will  feel  stronger  in 
the  morning.  Adieu!" 

"Adieu "  she  murmured,  and  hurried  through  the 

stone  portal,  aware  of  the  gaze  of  those  dark,  slightly 
oblique  eyes  which  had  puzzled,  then  fascinated — then 
frightened  her. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

PRISONER  AND  CAPTIVE 

IT  was  with  mingled  feelings  that  Marishka  found 
the  sanctuary  of  her  sleeping  room.  Her  abhor- 
rence of  Goritz  as  the  murderer  of  Hugh  Renwick 
was  uppermost  in  her  breast,  her  fear  of  him  as  her 
captor  of  scarcely  less  import,  but  his  tumultuous  plea 
for  her  forgiveness  and  his  strange  avowal  had  given 
her  food  for  thought.  Such  a  rapid  volte-face  was  be- 
yond credence.  This  man  had  watched  by  her  bedside, 
nursed  her  during  the  week  that  she  had  lain  uncon- 
scious. Her  cheeks  burned  hot  at  the  thought  of  the 
situation,  and  quickly  she  questioned  Ena  who  at  last 
reluctantly  admitted  the  truth.  Herr  Hauptmann  Go- 
ritz had  sat  many  nights  by  the  bedside  while  she,  Ena, 
had  slept  so  as  to  be  fresh  for  the  day  to  follow.  He 
had  commanded  her  silence,  and  Ena  had  obeyed.  She 
hoped  that  the  Excellency  would  understand. 

Marishka  nodded  and  sent  her  from  the  room,  for 
she  wanted  to  be  alone  with  her  thoughts.  He  had 
watched  by  her  sickbed,  carrying  out  the  orders  of  the 
doctor  while  she  had  lain  unconscious — Goritz,  the  mas- 
ter craftsman  of  duplicity — Goritz,  the  insensible! 
What  did  it  mean?  Had  the  man  spoken  the  truth? 
Was  he — ?  Love  to  such  a  man  as  Goritz!  It  was 
impossible. 


PRISONER  AND  CAPTIVE 

He  had  always  been  courteous  and  considerate,  but 
there  was  a  new  note  in  his  voice  which  rang  strangely. 
Another  lie — another  hypocrisy?  And  yet  the  very 
frankness  of  his  admission  with  regard  to  her  safety  for 
a  moment  disarmed  her.  He  would  have  killed  her — 
"eliminated"  her — had  the  necessities  of  his  duty  de- 
manded it  of  him.  And  yet  he  had  confessed  his  love 
for  her.  What  was  the  meaning  of  the  paradox?  Had 
he  something  td  gain  by  her  favor?  Had  a  change 
taken  place  in  their  situation?  A  chance  phrase  had 
revealed  the  fact  that  there  was  now  a  danger  of  the 
revelation  of  this  hiding  place.  They  had  been  pur- 
sued— what  had  balked  him  in  the  continuance  of  their 
flight  into  Germany?  Meditation  only  served  to  en- 
hance the  mystery,  and  she  emerged  from  an  hour  of 
thought  over  the  scene  in  the  courtyard  with  no  very 
clear  idea  of  what  the  future  had  in  store  for  her,  sure 
only  of  one  thing — that  she  must  not  hang  importance 
upon  the  words  of  this  man,  who  had  already  proved 
himself  a  deadly  enemy  to  her  happiness.  He  had  hired 
assassins  to  kill  Hugh,  and  when  they  had  failed,  had 
accomplished  his  purpose  by  a  vile  expedient. 

Love !  She  knew  what  love  was.  She  closed  her  eyes 
and  buried  her  face  in  her  arms  in  wordless,  silent  grief 
for  the  man  to  whom  she  had  given  all  that  was  best 
and  noblest  of  her — Hugh!  But  she  could  not  weep. 
It  seemed  as  though,  long  since,  the  fountains  of  her 
misery  were  dry.  For  a  long  while  she  crouched  in 
the  window,  motionless,  and  when  at  last  she  raised  her 
head  and  gazed  out  down  the  shimmering  vista  of  the 
gorge,  it  was  with  a  look  of  new  resolution  and  intelli- 
gence. She  must  escape.  Every  iota  of  cleverness  must 
be  given  to  find  a  way  out  of  Schloss  Szolnok.  What  if, 

325 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

in  spite  of  all,  the  things  that  Leo  Goritz  had  confessed 
were  true !  She  doubted  it  and  yet — if  he  loved  her — ! 
Here  was  a  woman's  revenge,  to  bait,  to  charm,  to 
spurn ;  and  then  to  outwit  him !  A  test  of  the  sincerity 
of  his  professions,  and  of  her  own  feminine  art — a  dan- 
gerous game  which  she  had  once  before  thought  of  play- 
ing, until  his  cruelty  had  atrophied  all  impulse. 

But  now !  If  he  really  cared — her  power  would  grow 
with  the  venture,  her  own  safety  the  pledge  of  his  purity 
— a  dangerous  game,  indeed,  here  alone  upon  this  crag 
in  the  mountains,  but  if  he  were  sincere,  she  was  armed 
with  a  flaming  sword  to  defend — to  destroy!  If — ? 
She  would  not  trust  him,  but  she  would  fight  him  with 
the  weapons  she  had.  Her  lips  closed  in  a  thin  line,  and 
a  glint  as  of  polished  metal  came  into  her  eyes  as  the 
scene  in  the  house  of  the  Beg  of  Rataj  shut  out  the 
lovely  landscape  before  her.  To  destroy — to  fan  the 
spark  to  flame  that  she  might  extinguish  it ;  to  corrode 
the  spirit  with  the  biting  acid  of  contempt ;  to  envenom 
the  soul — newly  born,  perhaps — to  the  sweeter  uses  of 
beneficence,  and  then  escape !  If  he  cared ! 

And  if  he  did  not  care — if,  as  she  really  believed,  he 
lied  to  gain  an  end  .  .  . 

This  was  the  thought  of  him  that  obsessed  her.  A 
liar,  always.  Why  not  now?  Men  of  his  kind  were  un- 
usual to  women  of  hers,  but  even  in  the  midst  of  his 
confession — as  near  self-abasement  as  a  man  of  his  type 
could  come,  the  note  of  egotism  rang  clear  above  the 
graceful  phrases — too  graceful  to  be  anything  but 
manufactured  in  that  clear  inventive  brain  of  his. 

She  paced  the  floor,  thinking  deeply,  and  at  last 
stopped  by  the  window  and  sought  again  the  counsel  of 
the  eternal  hills.  After  a  while  she  turned  again  into 

326 


PRISONER  AND  CAPTIVE 

the  room  and  peered  into  a  mirror,  seeking  in  her  face 
the  answer  to  the  riddle.  It  was  pale,  resolute,  but  it 
was  not  ugly. 

She  planned  her  campaign  with  the  calm  forethought 
of  a  general  who  picks  out  his  own  battlefield,  disposing 
his  forces  to  the  best  advantage,  for  attack  or  for 
repulse,  for  victory,  or  defeat.  She  must  mask  her 
approach,  conceal  her  intentions,  and  develop  slowly 
the  real  strength  of  her  position.  There  was  much  that 
she  wished  to  learn  as  to  Schloss  Szolnok,  and  its  se- 
curity from  those  who  sought  to  intercept  them,  much 
in  regard  to  the  plans  of  her  captor  for  the  future,  but 
•he  knew  that  she  must  act  with  caution  and  skill,  if 
she  hoped  to  escape. 

Goritz  had  previously  expressed  a  wish  that  when 
she  grew  strong  enough  to  leave  her  bedroom,  she  would 
join  him  at  dinner,  which  she  heard  was  served  in  one 
end  of  the  great  Hall,  but  she  decided  that  the  first  skir- 
mish should  take  place  in  a  situation  of  her  own  choos- 
ing. And  so  after  dusk,  the  moon  coming  out,  she  went 
again  upon  the  terrace  where  she  leaned  upon  the  wall 
of  the  bastion  and  looked  down  with  an  air  of  self- 
sought  seclusion,  upon  the  mists  of  the  valley. 

Goritz  was  not  long  in  joining  her.  She  heard  his 
footsteps  as  he  approached  but  did  not  give  any  sign 
or  acknowledgment  of  his  presence. 

"May  I  talk  with  you,  Countess  Strahni?"  he  asked  t) 
easily. 

Her  shrug,  under  her  cloak,  was  hardly  perceptible. 

"Since  you  have  already  done  so  it  seems  that  my 
own  wishes  do  not  matter,"  she  said  coolly. 

"I  have  no  wish  to  intrude." 

Marishka  laughed.    "I  can  go  in "  She  drew  her 

327 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

wrap  more  closely  about  her  throat  and  straightened. 

"I  hope  that  you  will  not  do  that,"  he  said. 

"Is  there  anything  you  wished  to  speak  to  me 
about — ?  That  is — er — anything  of  importance?" 

Goritz  looked  past  her  toward  the  profile  of  the  dis- 
tant mountain,  and  smiled. 

"I  thought  that  you  might  be  interested  to  learn 
something  of  my  reasons  for  stopping  here." 

"The  insect  in  the  web  of  the  spider  has  little  emotion 
left  for  curiosity." 

"The  spider !  I  have  always  admired  your  courage, 
Countess." 

"I  can  die  but  once." 

"Perhaps  you  may  care  to  know  that  you  are  not  in 
the  slightest  danger  of  death." 

"Thanks,"  she  said  coolly.  "Your  kindness  is  over- 
whelming. Or  is  my — 'elimination'  no  longer  essential?" 

The  more  flippant  her  tone,  the  more  somber  Goritz 
became. 

"My  purposes,  Countess  Strahni,  I  think,  you  no 
longer  have  any  reason  to  doubt.  You  are  quite  safe 
at  Schloss  Szolnok " 

"So  is  the  insect  in  the  web — from  all  other  insects 
but  the  spider."  She  turned  away.  "You  cannot  blame 
me,  Herr  Hauptmann,  if  I  judge  of  the  future  by  the 
past." 

"I  would  waste  words  to  make  further  explanations 
which  are  so  little  understood,  but  there  are  matters  of 
interest  to  you." 

«Ah." 

"You  have  been  ill.  Many  things  have  happened. 
You  would  like  to  hear?" 

"I  am  listening." 

328 


PRISONER  AND  CAPTIVE 

"It  is  the  trifles  of  the  world  which  make  or  prevent 
its  greatest  disasters.  The  man  with  the  lantern  at 
the  bridgehead  at  Brod  did  not  know  that  he  held  the 
destiny  of  Europe  in  his  hand.  And  yet,  this  is  the 
truth.  Had  he  permitted  us  to  pass  unquestioned  we 
should  have  reached  Sarajevo  in  time  to  prevent  the 
greatest  cataclysm  of  all  the  ages." 

Marishka  turned  toward  him,  her  interest  now  fully 
aroused. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"War,  Countess  Strahni — the  most  bloody — terrible 
— in  the  history  of  the  world — the  event  that  I  have 
striven  all  my  life  to  prevent.  All  of  Europe  is  ablaze. 
Millions  of  men  are  marching — battles  have  already 
been  fought : 

"Horrible?     I  cannot  believe " 

"It  is  the  truth.  It  followed  swiftly  upon  the  assas- 
sination at  Sarajevo " 

"Serbia !" 

"Serbia  first — then  Russia — Germany — Belgium — 
France — England,  too — 

"You  are  speaking  the  truth?" 

"I  swear  it." 

"And  Austria?" 

"Germany  and  Austria — against  a  ring  of  enemies 
bent  on  exterminating  us " 

"England—?" 

And  while  with  eager  ears  she  listened,  he  told  her  the 
history  of  the  long  weeks,  now  growing  into  months,  in 
which  she  had  been  hidden  from  the  world — including 
the  defeat  of  the  Austrians  by  the  Serbians  along  the 
Drina,  and  the  advance  of  the  Russians  in  East  Prussia 
and  Galicia. 

329 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

She  heard  him  through  until  the  end,  questioning 
eagerly,  then  aware  of  the  dreadful  significance  of  his 
news,  forgetting  for  the  moment  her  own  animosities, 
her  own  questionable  position  in  the  greater  peril  of 
her  country — and  his.  His  country  and  hers  at  war 
against  the  world ! 

"Russia  has  won  victories  against  Austria — in 
Galicia?"  she  urged. 

"Yes — the  Cossacks  already  are  approaching  Lem- 
berg " 

"Lemberg!" 

"They  are  less  than  two  hundred  kilometers  from  us 
at  the  present  moment." 

"And  will  they  come — here?" 

"I  hope  not,"  he  said  with  a  slow  smile.  "But  Schloss 
Szolnok  is  hardly  equipped  to  resist  a  siege  of  modern 
ordnance." 

"And  you — why  are  you  here?" 

The  ingenuousness  of  her  impetuous  question  seemed 
to  amuse  him. 

"I?"  he  said.  "I  am  here  because — well,  because 
you — because  I  had  no  other  place  to  go." 

"Will  you  explain?" 

"I  see  no  reason  why  I  should  not.  I  chose  the  place 
as  a  temporary  refuge  from  pursuit.  Your  illness 
marred  my  plans.  The  war  continues  to  mar  them."j 

"How?" 

He  smiled. 

"The  insect  has  curiosity,  then?  Schloss  Szolnok 
has  proved  safe.  I  have  no  desire  to  take  unnecessarj 
risks." 

"You  were  pursued?" 

He  nodded.  "Yes.  And  I  managed  to  get  away — 
830 


PRISONER  AND  CAPTIVE 

here,  but  the  other  end  of  this  pass  is  now  stronglj 
guarded.  I  could  have  gone  through  when  I  first  came, 
but  you  were  very  ill.  You  would  probably  have 
died  if  I  had  gone  on.  Now  it  is  too  late.  You 
see,"  he  said  with  a  shrug,  "I  am  quite  cheerful 
about  it." 

She  turned  and  examined  him  with  an  air  of 
timidity. 

"You  mean  that — that  to  save  my  life  you — you 
have  sacrificed  all  hope  of  winning  through  to  Ger- 
many ?" 

"With  you,  yes — for  the  present,"  he  smiled. 

She  turned  away  and  leaned  upon  the  wall. 

"I — I  think  that  I — I  have  done  you  some  injustice, 
Herr  Hauptmann,"  she  murmured  with  an  effort. 

"Thank  you." 

"But  I  cannot  understand.  The  papers  which  passed 
you  through  Hungary — signed  by  General  Von  Hoet- 
zendorf " 

"Unfortunately  are  of  no  further  service.  An  order 
for  my  arrest  has  been  issued  in  Vienna." 

"Your  arrest?  For  taking  me?" 

"For  many  things "    And  he  shrugged. 

"What  do  you  propose  to  do  ?" 

"Remain  here  for  the  present,"  he  said  slowly.  "It 
is  doubtful  if  anyone  would  think  of  seeking  us  here. 
The  Schloss  has  an  evil  name  along  the  countryside. 
None  of  the  peasants  dares  to  come  within  a  league  of 
the  place." 

"And  I—?"  she  asked. 

*'K  seems,  Countess  Strahni,"  he  said  slowly,  smiling 
at  her,  "that  our  positions  are  now  reversed — you  the 
captor — I  the  prisoner.  And  yet,  as  you  see,"  with  a 

331 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

shrug,  "I  am  making  no  effort  to  escape.     You  have 
led  captivity  captive." 

His  phrases  were  too  well  spoktn,  and  the  look  in  his 
ejes  disturbed  her. 

"You — you  wish  me  to  understand  that  I  am  free  to 
go " 

"Hardly  that,"  he  interrupted  with  a  short  laugh. 
"Only  this  morning  you  said  that  you  would  kill  me  if 
you  dared.  I  do  not  relish  the  notion  of  being  delivered 
into  the  hands  of  the  police." 

"You  think  that  I  would  do  that?"  she  questioned. 

"Wouldn't  you?" 

"I  don't  know.     I " 

"I  am  sure  of  it.  I  am  no  longer  under  any  illusions 
with  regard  to  your  sentiments  toward  myself.  This 
morning  I  uncovered  my  heart  to  you — and  you 
plunged  a  dagger  into  it.  It  was  too  much — beyond 
my  deserts.  I  am  no  man  for  a  woman  to  spit  upon, 
Countess  Strahni.  You  are  still  a  prisoner — as  com- 
pletely under  my  power  as  though  you  and  I  were  the 
last  people  left  upon  the  earth." 

His  tone  was  mild,  but  there  was  a  depth  of  mean- 
ing under  it. 

"I — I  can  scarcely  be  unaware  of  it,"  she  murmured. 
"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me?" 

"For  the  present  we  shall  stay  here — until  an  oppor- 
tunity presents — — " 

"For  escape?" 

"I  could  go  alone  tonight — and  reach  Germany — 
without  you.  That  is  not  my  purpose." 

"Then  you  propose  to  take  me  with  you?" 

"When  the  coast  is  clear — yes." 

"And  if  the  coast  should  not  be  clear?" 
332 


PRISONER  AND  CAPTIVE 

"I  shall  remain." 

The  situation  was  as  she  had  supposed,  but  his  mo- 
tive— the  real  motive !  She  drew  the  wrap  more  closelj 
around  her  throat  and  turned  away  from  him  again. 
To  escape  from  him!  That  was  the  only  thing  she 
could  think  of  now.  Upon  the  road,  his  attitude  of 
firm  consideration,  his  cool  insistence  upon  compliance 
with  his  wishes,  had  not  been  nearly  so  ominous  as  the 
personal  note  which  he  had  injected  into  their  relations. 
He  frightened  her  now.  But  to  escape?  She  was 
watched,  she  was  sure,  for  in  the  afternoon,  while  the 
drawbridge  was  lowered,  she  had  made  out  the  figure  of 
a  man  on  guard  at  the  end  of  the  causeway.  But  while 
her  conversation  with  Goritz  dismayed  her,  she  studied 
him  keenly,  trying  to  read  him  by  what  he  did  not  say. 

She  smiled  at  him  impudently. 

"And  suppose  I  attempted  to  escape?"  she  asked. 

"You  would  fail.  There  is  but  one  exit  from  Szolnok 
— the  drawbridge — and  that  is  continually  guarded." 

"You  have  ordered  your  men  to  shoot  me?" 

"No — but  you  will  not  pass." 

"I  see.    Your  contrition  does  not  go  as  far  as  that." 

"Not  beyond  the  walls  of  Schloss  Szolnok,"  he  said 
coolly. 

"And  you  ask  me  to  believe  in  the  integrity  of  your 
motives?  What  was  the  use,  Herr  Hauptmann?  I 
could  understand  duplicity  to  me  in  the  performance  of 
a  duty,  but  to  practice  your  machine-made  emotions 
upon  my  simplicity — !  I  could  hardly  forgive  you 
that." 

He  kept  himself  well  in  hand  and  even  smiled  again. 

"You  wrong  me,  Countess  Strahni.  I  have  spoken 
the  truth." 

333 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"You  cannot  deny  me  the  privilege  of  doubting  you," 
she  replied. 

"What  further  proof  would  you  have  me  give  you 
that  I  am  honest  in  my  love  for  you?" 

She  pointed  past  the  drawbridge  along  the  causeway 
toward  the  valley  below. 

"Permit  me  to  go — there — alone — tonight." 

He  laughed  quietly. 

"Alone?  I  do  not  know  what  danger  may  lurk  in 
the  valley.  The  fact  that  I  wish  to  keep  you  here — is 
a  better  proof  of  my  tenderness." 

She  turned  away  from  him  and  leaned  upon  the  wall. 
But  to  him  at  least  she  did  not  show  fear. 

"We  cannot  remain  here  indefinitely,"  she  said  coolly. 

"Are  you  not  comfortable?  Is  not  everything  pro- 
vided for  you?  It  has  been  my  pride  to  make  your 
convalescence  agreeable  in  all  ways,"  he  said,  leaning 
a  little  nearer  to  her.  "I  have  tried  to  atone  for  the 
discomforts  of  your  journey.  Was  it  not  my  solicitude 
for  your  health  which  balked  my  own  plans  ?  You  have 
questioned  the  truth  of  my  professions,  but  you  cannot 
deny  the  evidences  of  your  safety." 

Marishka  was  thinking  quickly.  Much  as  she  ab- 
horred the  man,  she  realized  that,  if  she  were  to  have 
any  chance  of  success  she  must  meet  him  with  weapons 
stronger  than  his  own.  And  so  she  turned  to  him  with 
a  smile  which  concealed  her  growing  terror. 

"Hcrr  Hauptmann,  I  do  not  wish  you  to  think  that 
I  am  ungrateful  for  the  many  indulgences  that  you  have 
shown  me.  Your  position  has  been  a  difficult,  one.  But 
from  the  beginning  we  have  been  enemies " 

"Before  the  outbreak  of  the  war — but  allies 
now " 


PRISONER  AND  CAPTIVE 

"Not  if  you  persist  in  your  plan  to  carry  me  to  Ger- 
many." 

He  asked  her  permission  to  smoke,  and  when  she  had 
.granted  it  he  went  on  coolly. 

"Perhaps  something  may  happen  to  prevent  the  exe- 
cution of  my  plan,"  he  said. 

"What?"  she  stammered. 

He  searched  her  face  eagerly  for  a  moment. 

"You  may  be  sure,  Countess  -Strahni,"  he  said  in  a 
half-whisper,  "that  it  is  very  painful  to  me  that  you 
should  think  of  me  as  an  enemy.  Enemy  I  am  not.  It 
is  my  duty  to  take  you  to  Germany,  but  it  is  very  pain- 
ful to  me  to  do  anything  which  makes  you  unhappy. 
Here,  safe  from  detection,  I  am  still  doing  my  duty. 
And  in  remaining  here  you,  too,  are  safe.  Will  you  not 
try  to  be  contented — to  endure  my  society  just  for  a 
little  while?  I  want  to  show  you  that  I  can  be  as  other 
men " 

She  laughed  to  hide  her  fears. 

"All  men  are  alike  where  a  woman  is  concerned — " 

"Will  you  try?  I  will  be  your  slave — your  servant. 
Within  the  castle  you  may  come  and  go  as  you  please. 
No  one  shall  approach  you  without  your  permission. 
You  see,  I  am  not  an  exacting  jailer.  All  I  ask  is  the 
hope  of  your  friendship,  a  glimpse  of  your  returning 
smile,  and  such  companionship  as  you  care  to  give  me. 
It  is  not  much.  Do  I  not  deserve  it?  Bitte,  think  a 
little." 

Marishka  gasped  and  fought  the  impulse  to  run  from 
him,  for  his  face  was  very  near  her  shoulder,  his  voice 
very  close  to  her  ear. 

"I — I  think  that — we  may  be  friends,"  she  murmured. 

"Will  you  give  me  your  hand,  Countess  Strahni?" 
335 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

She  extended  it  slowly  and  he  bowed  over  it,  press- 
ing it  to  his  lips. 

She  found  her  excuse  in  a  cough,  a  vestige  of  her  ill- 
ness which  she  summoned  to  her  rescue. 

"It — it  is  getting  late,  Herr  Hauptmann,"  she  said. 
"I  must  be  going  in.  The  night  air 

"By  all  means."  He  accompanied  her  to  the  portal 
of  the  hall  and  then  she  left  him. 

That  night  Marishka  did  not  sleep,  and  the  next  dayr 
pleading  fatigue,  remained  in  her  bedroom,  trying  to 
muster  up  the  courage  to  go  forth  and  meet  Goritz  at 
this  tragic  game  of  his  own  choosing.  That  she  had 
stirred  some  sort  of  an  emotion  in  the  man  was  not  to 
be  doubted.  She  read  it  in  his  eyes,  in  the  touch  of  his 
fingers,  and  in  the  resonant  tones  of  his  voice,  but  she 
read  too,  the  sense  of  his  power,  the  confidence  of  his 
egotism  to  which  all  things  were  possible.  And  much 
as  she  wished  to  believe  the  testimony  of  his  flashes  of 
tenderness,  the  hazard  of  her  position  stared  her  in  the 
face.  But  she  knew  that  with  such  a  man  she  must 
play  a  game  of  subtlety  and  courage.  And  so  she  re- 
solved to  meet  him  frequently,  testing  every  feminine 
device  to  win  him  to  her  service  which  would  obliterate 
all  things  but  her  own  wishes,  and  present  at  last  an 
opportunity  for  her  escape. 

In  the  week  that  followed  she  walked  out  with  him 
across  the  causeway  into  the  mountain  road,  visiting 
Szolnok  farm  and  climbing  the  hills  adjacent  to  the 
castle,  but  she  saw  no  one  except  the  German  farmers, 
and  it  seemed  indeed  as  though  the  gorge  was  taboo  to 
all  human  beings.  Goritz  made  love  to  her,  of  course, 
but  she  laughed  him  off,  gaining  a  new  confidence  as  the 
days  of  their  companionship  increased.  Slowly,  with 

336 


PRISONER  AND  CAPTIVE 

infinite  patience,  with  infinite  self-control,  she  estab- 
lished a  relationship  which  baffled  him,  a  foil  for  each  of 
his  moods,  a  parry  for  each  attack.  With  a  smile 
on  her  lips  which  masked  the  lie,  she  told  him  that 
Hugh  Renwick  had  been  nothing1  to  her. 

And  Goritz  told  her  of  the  women  he  had  met  in  the 
performance  of  his  duty  from  London  to  Constanti- 
nople, women  of  the  secret  service  of  England,  France, 
Russia,  who  had  set  their  wits  to  match  his.  Some  of 
them  were  ugly  and  clever,  some  were  stupid  and  beau- 
tiful, but  they  had  all  been  dangerous.  He  had  passed 
them  by.  No  woman  in  the  world  that  he  had  ever 
known  had  had  the  nobility  of  spirit,  the  courage,  the 
self-abnegation  of  the  Countess  Strahni. 

It  was  in  these  moods  of  adulation  and  self-revelation 
that  Marishka  found  him  most  difficult.  But  she  man- 
aged to  keep  him  at  arm's  length  by  the  mere  insistence 
of  her  spirituality  which  accepted  his  friendshipt  upon 
its  face  value,  telling  him  that  she  forgave  the  past, 
and  vaguely  suggesting  hope  for  the  future.  With  that 
he  had  to  be  content,  though  at  times  he  was  danger- 
ously near  rebellion.  She  promised  him  many  things 
but  denied  him  her  lips,  hoping  day  by  day  for  the 
rescue  which  came  not,  and  praying  night  after  night 
that  the  God  who  watched  over  her  would  forgive  her 
for  her  duplicity  and  for  the  hatred  of  him  that  was 
in  her  heart. 

But  there  came  a  day  when  the  walks  beyond  the 
causeway  ceased,  and  from  the  window  of  her  bedroom 
she  learned  the  reason.  Far,  far  below  her  in  the  valley 
along  the  road  which  wound  through  the  Pass,  she  saw 
the  figures  of  marching  men.  Austrian  soldiers !  What 
did  their  presence  mean?  They  were  going  toward  the 

337 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

other  end  of  the  pass — thousands  of  them.  Had  the 
Russians  crossed  Galicia?  That  night  there  were  no 
lights  in  the  side  of  the  castle  toward  the  gorge  save 
the  candle  in  her  room,  which  was  screened  by  heavy 
hangings.  And  when  at  dinner  she  questioned  Goritz 
he  gave  her  the  briefest  of  replies.  The  Cossacks  were 
coming?  Perhaps,  but  they  would  not  take  Dukla  Pass. 
He  warned  her  not  to  show  her  figure  at  the  castle  win- 
idows  or  above  the  wall  of  the  rampart,  and  she  obeyed. 

For  several  days  Goritz  disappeared,  and  she  gained 
a  breathing  space  to  think  over  her  position.  She  ven- 
tured out  many  times  into  the  courtyard  in  the  hope  of 
finding  an  opportunity  to  elude  her  guard,  but  each 
time  she  approached  the  drawbridge  she  saw  the  chauf- 
feur Karl  seated  in  the  shadow  of  the  wall,  smoking  his 
pipe.  And  so  she  knew  that  any  attempt  to  pass  him 
would  be  impossible. 

At  the  end  of  the  fourth  day,  Captain  Goritz  joined 
her  at  the  supper  table.  He  had  now  discarded  his 
Austrian  uniform  and  wore  a  rough  suit  of  working 
clothes,  similar  to  the  peasant  costume  which  Ena's  hus- 
band wore.  He  greeted  her  gladly,  but  she  asked  him 
no  questions  as  to  his  absence,  upon  her  guard  as  she 
always  was  against  the  unknown  quality  in  the  man, 
which  held  her  in  constant  anxiety.  But  after  he  had 
eaten,  the  cloud  which  had  hung  over  him  seemed  to 
pass,  and  he  leaned  forward,  smiling  at  her  across  the 
table. 

"You  have  been  obedient?"  he  asked. 

"What  else  is  left  for  me?"  she  smiled.  "I  have  won- 
dered where  you  were." 

"Ah,"  he  laughed,  "you  missed  me?  That  is  good. 
You  wondered  what  would  happen  to  you  if  I  did 

338 


PRISONER  AND  CAPTIVE 

not  come  back."  He  laughed  as  he  lighted  his  cigarette. 
"I  am  not  so  easily  to  be  lost,  I  assure  you.  I  have 
been  through  Dukla  Pass." 

"Many  soldiers  have  gone  through  the  pass  today — 
many  this  morning — many  more  this  afternoon." 

"Yes,  I  saw  them." 

"And  the  Russians?" 

He  was  silent  for  a  while,  and  then  spoke  rery 
quietly-  "They  are  coming." 

She  made  no  sound  and  seemed  to  be  frozen  into 
immobility  by  the  import  of  the  information. 

"The  Austrians  have  fortified  the  other  end  of  the 
Pass,  but  it  is  said  that  the  Russians  are  in  great  num- 
bers, sweeping  everything  before  them " 

"Przemysl — !     Lemberg — !" 

"Lemberg  has  fallen.  The  fate  of  Przemysl  hangs  in 
the  balance."  He  shrugged.  "Tomorrow,  perhaps, 
may  see  the  Cossacks  at  Dukla  Pass." 

"And  then " 

"I  do  not  wish  to  alarm  you,"  he  said  gently.  "Six 
hundred  years  have  passed  over  Schloss  Szolnok,  and 
it  still  stands.  I  am  not  going  to  run  away." 

"But  you  can  do  nothing — against  so  many." 

"They  will  not  bother  us,  I  think.  The  Austrians, 
you  see,  hare  passed  us  by.  They  are  taking  all  their 
artillery  to  Javorina  and  Jagerhorn  and  mounting 
them  upon  the  old  emplacements  of  the  ruins.  The  de- 
fense will  be  made  there  where  the  gorge  is  narrower." 

"But  if  they  should  come — here — the  Cossacks — !'* 
(she  whispered  fearfully. 

He  laughed  easily.  "Ah,  Countess,  I  am  not  a  half- 
bad  jailer,  after  all?" 

"The  Cossacks !"  she  repeated. 
339 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"They  shall  not  come  here." 

"What  can  you  do?" 

"The  place  is  impregnable — sheer  cliffs  upon  all 
sides — the  causeway  two  hundred  meters  long.  I  could 
pick  them  off  one  by  one  from  the  top  of  the  keep, 
With  the  drawbridge  up,  we  are  as  safe  as  though  we 
were  in  Vienna." 

"But  their  artillery?" 

"They  will  not  think  us  worth  their  while.  In  the 
armory  there  are  six  repeating  hunting  rifles  and  four 

shotguns,  ammunition  plentiful "  He  broke  off  and, 

rising,  came  over  and  stood  beside  her.  "But  we  will 
not  think  of  unpleasant  possibilities.  It  has  been  so 
long  since  I  have  seen  you — too  long." 

She  let  him  take  her  hand  and  press  it  to  his  lips, 
but  tonight  that  condescension  did  not  seem  to  be 
enough.  He  fell  to  one  knee  beside  her  and  would  have 
put  his  arm  about  her  waist  if  she  had  not  risen  and 
struggled  away  from  him. 

"You  forget,  Herr  Hauptmann,  the  dependence  of 
my  position  here — alone  with  you.  Whatever  our  per- 
sonal relations,  a  delicacy  for  my  feelings  must  warn 

you -" 

"Marishka!"  he  broke  in.  "What  does  a  man  who 
loves  as  I  do,  care  for  the  conventions  of  the  sham 
world  you  and  I  have  left  so  far  behind.  I  adore  you. 
And  you  flout  me." 

"For  shame!  Would  you  care  for  me  if  I  were  a 
woman  without  delicacy  or  dignity?  I  beg  of 
you " 

But  he  had  held  her  by  the  hand  and  would  not  re- 
lease her. 

"I  adore  you — and  you  flout  me — that  is  all  that  I 
340 


PRISONER  AND  CAPTIVE 

know.  Your  indifference  maddens  me.  Perhaps  I  am 
not  as  other  men,  and  must  not  be  judged  by  other 
standards  than  my  own  which  are  sufficient  for  myself 
as  they  should  be  sufficient  for  you.  You  know  that  I 
— I  worship  you — that  by  staying  here  I  have  forgotten 
my  duty  to  my  country  at  a  time  when  I  am  most 
needed.  Does  that  mean  nothing  to  you?  Can  you  be 
callous  to  a  love  like  mine  which  lives  only  in  your  hap- 
piness and  hangs  upon  your  pleasure?  1  worship  you, 
Marishka.  Just  one  kiss,  to  tell  me  that  you  care  for 
me  a  little.  I  will  be  content 

She  struggled  in  his  grasp,  her  fear  of  him  lending 
her  more  strength.  Her  lips — ?  Hugh's!  Never — 
never — as  God  witnessed. 

"One  kiss,  Marishka " 

She  struggled  free  and  struck  him  with  her  clenched 
fist  furiously,  full  in  the  face,  and  then  ran  to  the  win- 
dow, as  he  released  her,  breathing  hard,  trembling,  but 
full  of  defiance.  The  suddenness  of  the  affair  and  its 
culmination  had  driven  them  both  dumb,  Marishka  with 
terror,  Goritz  with  chagrin  at  his  mistake  and  anger 
at  her  temerity.  He  touched  his  face  with  the  fingers  of 
one  hand  and  stared  at  her  with  eyes  that  burned  with 
black  fire  in  the  pallor  of  his  face. 

"You  have  struck  me,"  he  muttered.  And  then,  with 
a  shrug,  "That  was  not  a  love  tap,  Countess  Strahni." 

She  could  not  speak  for  very  terror  of  the  conse- 
quences of  the  encounter,  but  stood  watching  him  nar- 
rowly, one  hand  upon  the  window-ledge  beside  her. 

"Well,"  he  asked  presently,  "are  you  dumb?" 

"You — you  insulted  me,"  she  gasped. 

"Whatever  I  have  done,  you  have  repaid  me,"  he 
muttered. 

341 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

She  glanced  out  of  the  window  into  the  black  void 
beneath. 

"I — I  am  not  afraid  to  die,  Herr  Goritz,"  she  said. 

He  caught  the  meaning  of  her  glance  and  her  poise 
by  the  window-ledge,  and  their  significance  sobered  him 
instantly.  He  drew  back  from  her  two  or  three  paces 
and  leaned  heavily  against  an  oaken  chair. 

"Am  I  so  repellent  to  you  as  that?"  he  whispered. 

"My  lips — are  mine,"  she  said  proudly.  "I  give  them 
willingly  or  not  at  all." 

His  gaze  flickered  and  fell  before  the  high  resolve  that 
he  read  in  her  face.  And  her  courage  enthralled  him. 

"Herr  Gott!"  he  muttered,  "you  have  never  been  so 
beautiful  as  now,  Marishka !" 

She  did  not  reply  or  move,  but  only  watched  him 
steadily. 

He  paced  the  floor  stiffly,  his  hands  behind  him,, 
struggling  for  his  self-control.  And  the  better  in- 
stinct in  him,  the  part  of  him  that  had  made  life  pos- 
sible for  Marishka  at  Schloss  S/olnok,  was  slowly 
triumphant. 

"A  kiss  means  much  or  little,"  he  said  quietly  at 
last.  "To  me,  the  consecration  of  a  love  which  has 
leaped  the  bounds  of  mere  platitude.  A  woman  of  your 
training  perhaps  cannot  grasp  the  honesty  of  my  un- 
convention.  I  have  meant  you  no  harm.  But  that  you 
should  have  misunderstood — !" 

"One  thing  only  I  understand — that  you  have  vio- 
lated the  hospitality  of  Schloss  Szolnok." 

"I  beg  of  you " 

"It  is  true.  Was  your  kindness,  your  courtesy,  your 
consideration,  but  the  means  to  this  end?  I  can  never 
believe  in  you  again." 


PRISONER  AND  CAPTIVE 

"Do  you  mean  that?" 

«I  do " 

"It  is  a  pity." 

"It  is  the  truth.  Fear  and  affection  cannot  sunrive 
together." 

"Fear?" 

"I  can  never  trust  you  again.  Let  me  go — I  beg  that 
you  will  excuse  me." 

He  bowed.  "If  that  is  your  wish "  and  turned 

and  walked  to  the  window  opposite,  while  Marishka 
found  her  way  up  the  stairs  and  so  to  her  room  where 
she  lay  upon  her  bed  fully  dressed,  in  a  high  state  of 
.nervous  excitement. 


HUGH  RENWICK  in  his  borrowed  plumage, 
strode  forth  before  dawn,  and  reaching  a  spot 
where  the  valley  narrowed  into  the  gorge  and 
marked  the  grim  outline  of  Schloss  Szolnok  against  the 
lightening  East,  slowly  climbed  the  rugged  slope  of  the 
mountain  on  his  left  which  faced  it.  He  meant  to  spend 
the  morning  in  a  study  of  the  approaches  to  the  castle, 
and  if  possible  devise  some  means  by  which  he  could  in- 
spect it  unobserved  at  closer  range.  Daylight  found  him 
perched  in  a  crevice  of  rock  among  some  trees,  through 
the  leaves  of  which  he  could  clearly  see  the  distant  mass 
of  stone  which  rose  in  solitary  dignity,  an  island  above 
the  mists  of  the  valley,  a  grim  relic  of  an  age  when  such 
a  situation  meant  isolation  and  impregnability. 

Indeed,  it  scarcely  seemed  less  impregnable  now,  for 
upon  two  sides  at  least,  the  cliffs  rose  sheer  from  the 
gorge  until  they  were  joined  by  the  heavy  buttresses 
which  tapered  gracefully  until  they  joined  the  walls 
of  the  crenelated  towers  and  bastions.  In  the  center  of 
the  mass  of  buildings  rose  the  square  solid  mass  of  the 
keep,  with  its  crenelated  roof  and  small  windows  com- 
manding every  portion  of  the  space  enclosed  within  the 
gray  walls.  He  marked  the  dim  lines  of  a  road  which 
ascended  from  the  valley  upon  the  further  mountain, 
now  scarcely  visible  because  of  the  vegetation  which 

344 


THE  RIFT  IN  THE  ROCK 

grew  luxuriantly  on  the  hillsides,  and  he  studied  this 
approach  to  the  castle  most  attentively — the  straight 
reach  of  wall,  built  to  span  a  branch  of  the  gorge  be- 
yond, perhaps  two  hundred  feet  deep  and  six  hundred 
wide.  This  was  the  main  entrance  to  the  castle,  a  nar- 
row causeway,  that  terminated  at  the  gate  where  he 
marked  a  drawbridge  now  raised,  which  hung  by  chains 
to  the  heavy  walls  above. 

The  only  means  of  access?  Perhaps,  and  if  the  gate 
were  guarded,  impassable  by  night  as  well  as  day.  But 
Renwick  was  not  sure  that  there  was  no  other  means 
of  ingress.  To  the  left  of  the  keep,  and  on  a  level  with 
the  top  of  the  long  curtain  of  wall,  the  building  fell 
away  in  ruins,  for  portions  of  old  bastions  were  missing, 
and  there  was  a  breach  in  the  northern  wall,  which  had 
tumbled  outward  over  the  precipice  into  the  ravine 
below. 

As  daylight  came  Renwick  watched  the  windows  and 
ramparts  intently.  There  was  no  sign  of  lifer  but  re- 
membering that  here  there  was  no  need  for  early  rising, 
he  waited  patiently,  gazing  steadily  through  the  leaves 
across  the  valley.  At  last  his  patience  was  rewarded, 
for  from  a  building. in  the  courtyard  near  the  central 
mass,  he  made  out  a  thin  pale  blue  line  which  ascended 
straight  into  the  sky.  Smoke !  Breakfast  was  cooking. 
His  heart  gave  a  leap.  There  were  no  devils  in  Schloss 
Szolnok — but  Goritz !  In  a  short  while,  still  watching 
intently,  he  saw  a  figure  pass  from  the  gate  toward 
the  main  buildings,  where  it  disappeared.  Renwick 
would  have  given  the  remainder  of  his  hundred-kroner 
notes  for  a  good  pair  of  field  glasses,  by  which  it  might 
have  been  possible  to  distinguish  the  identity  of  any 
figure  that  could  be  seen.  But  he  realized  that  he  had 

345 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

accomplished  the  object  of  his  visit,  for  the  raised  draw- 
bridge indicated  that  whoever  occupied  the  castle,  se- 
clusion was  important  to  him.  Deciding  that  he  knew 
enough  to  warrant  closer  investigation,  Renwick  moved 
slowly  along  the  mountain  side  into  the  gorge,  under 
the  cover  of  rocks  and  undergrowth,  slowly  descending 
toward  the  road,  with  the  idea  of  crossing  the  stream 
and  climbing  the  rugged  cliff  beyond,  from  which  he 
could  gain  a  nearer  view  of  the  northern  and  ruined  end 
of  the  castle. 

But  after  an  hour  of  careful  progress,  as  he  reached 
a  projection  of  rock  which  hung  over  the  road  below, 
he  crouched,  suddenly  listening.  For  he  heard  the  sound 
of  voices,  a  rumble  of  wheels,  and  the  creaking  and 
clanking  of  heavy  metallic  objects.  The  sounds  came 
nearer,  swelling  in  proportion,  now  clearly  distinguish- 
able ;  and  so  lying  flat  upon  his  stomach,  he  parted  the 
bushes  at  the  edge  of  the  rock  and  peered  over.  There 
was  a  cloud  of  dust  and  the  clatter  of  iron-shod  boots 
against  the  flints  of  the  road,  and  in  a  moment  he  made 
out  long  ranks  of  soldiers,  marching  rapidly  to  the 
northward  into  the  Pass.  Renwick  knew  that  the  north- 
ern end  of  the  Pass  was  already  strongly  guarded,  for 
his  host  had  told  him  that  many  soldiers  had  gone 
through  during  the  weeks  before ;  but  the  sight  of  these 
hurrying  men,  the  shrouded  guns  which  lumbered  amidst 
'/them,  and  the  long  line  of  motor  trucks  and  wagons 
which  followed,  gave  Renwick  a  notion  that  events  of 
military  importance  were  pending  in  the  Galician  plain 
beyond.  He  tried  to  form  some  idea  of  the  number  of 
men  that  passed.  A  regiment — two,  three,  four — ar- 
tillery— three  batteries  at  least.  For  an  hour  or  more 
they  passed,  and  then  at  last,  silence  and  solitude. 

346 


THE  RIFT  IN  THE  ROCK 

Although  adequately  disguised,  Renwick  was  in  no 
position  to  be  stopped  and  searched,  for  if  he  wore  no 
marks  of  identification,  his  automatic,  and  the  money 
pinned  in  his  trousers  lining,  would  have  made  him  an 
object  of  suspicion,  the  more  so  in  a  country  where 
soldiers  were  moving  in  so  precarious  a  military  situa- 
tion. 

And  so  he  descended  slowly,  hiding  in  a  copse  at  the 
base  of  the  rocks  where  he  waited  for  a  while  listening, 
and  then  peered  cautiously  out.  Then  matching  his 
footsteps  to  those  of  the  soldiers,  he  crossed  the  road 
obliquely  and  plunged  through  the  bushes  down  over  the 
rocks  to  the  bed  of  the  Dukla,  where  he  waited  and 
listened  again,  crossing  the  stream  at  last  by  a  fallen 
tree  and  reaching  the  protection  of  the  undergrowth 
upon  the  farther  bank. 

Though  he  had  been  able  to  learn  little  in  Buda- 
pest of  the  military  situation,  even  from  Herr  Koulos, 
the  sight  of  Austrian  soldiers  marching  toward  the 
northern  end  of  the  Pass  assured  him  that  the  Rus- 
sians must  have  won  important  victories  in  Galicia,  thus 
placing  all  the  passes  of  the  Carpathians  in  jeopardy. 
But  whatever  his  interest  in  conjectures  regarding  the 
possibility  of  victory  or  defeat,  his  own  business  was  too 
urgent  to  admit  of  other  issues,  and  so  he  made  his  way 
forward  cautiously  through  the  underbrush,  which  in 
places  was  almost  impenetrable.  Four-footed  things, 
startled  by  this  unusual  invasion  of  their  hunting 
ground,  started  up  almost  beside  him  and  fled — rabbits, 
squirrels,  a  wolf,  and  a  brown  bear,  which  rocked  upon 
its  four  legs  dubiously  for  a  moment,  and  then  lumbered 
comically  away.  These  creatures  and  the  pathless 
woods  advised  him  that  however  frequented  the  moun- 

347 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

tain  road  below,  the  inhabitants  hereabout  were  not 
in  the  habit  of  traversing  the  wooded  mountain  sides. 
Moving  forward  slowly  he  climbed  the  hills  in  the  gen- 
eral direction  of  the  castle,  the  sunlit  bastions  of  which 
suddenly  appeared  through  the  foliage  above  him  and 
to  the  right. 

He  moved  more  warily  now,  for  if  Goritz  were  in  hid- 
ing within  Schloss  Szolnok,  he  would  of  course  take 
pains  that  every  avenue  of  approach  should  be  watched. 
But  a  careful  inspection  of  the  crag  upon  which  the 
castle  was  perched,  and  from  this  new  angle,  led  Ren- 
wick  to  the  conclusion  that  Goritz  might  be  so  sure  of 
its  inaccessibility  from  the  north  that  no  guard  at 
the  ruined  end  would  be  thought  necessary.  At  first 
glance,  indeed,  Renwick  was  inclined  to  that  opinion 
himself,  for  the  rocks,  though  fissured  and  scarred  as 
though  by  the  blasts  of  winter,  though  not  so  high,  were 
scarcely  less  precipitous  than  upon  the  southern  side. 
At  his  very  feet,  perhaps  already  buried  for  years  in  the 
loam  and  moss,  were  the  huge  blocks  of  stone  which  had 
fallen  from  the  northern  towers  and  rolled  down  the 
steep  slope  of  the  natural  counterscarp  which  the  con- 
formation of  the  mountain  provided. 

Renwick  scrutinized  the  beetling  wall  of  rock  above 
the  incline  with  a  dubious  eye,  seeking  a  possible  path 
or  succession  of  footholds  by  means  of  which  he  might 
make  his  way  to  the  breach  in  the  stone  rampart  above. 
The  task  seemed  hopeless,  but  he  knew  that  the  most 
formidable  difficulties  are  often  solved  by  the  simplest 
devices,  and  so  he  studied  the  wall  patiently,  his  gaze 
suddenly  focusing  upon  a  fissure  in  the  cliff,  a  little 
to  his  right,  which  went  upward  at  an  angle,  its  apex 
passing  a  projection  of  the  rock  which  extended  for  a 

348 


THE  RIFT  IN  THE  ROCK 

hundred  feet  or  more  to  the  southward.  Above  that 
precarious  platform,  the  cliff  was  splintered  and  torn  as 
though  the  agencies  which  had  devastated  the  wall  above 
had  wreaked  their  vengeance  here  too.  But  there  were 
finger  holds  and  footholds,  a  desperate  climb  even  in  the 
daylight  to  a  member  of  an  Alpine  club.  But  Renwick 
from  his  ambush  studied  the  face  of  that  rock  foot  by 
foot,  and  at  last  decided  that  when  night  came,  the 
possibilities  of  entrance  having  been  denied  him  else- 
where, he  would  make  the  effort. 

He  did  not  know  what  he  would  find  among  the  ruins 
above,  their  connection  with  the  habitable  part  of  the 
castle  having  probably  been  walled  up  by  Baron  Neu- 
deck,  and  granting  that  Renwick  succeeded  in  making 
his  way  to  the  top,  his  chances  of  reaching  the  main 
buildings  might  be  slim  indeed.  And  suppose  after  all 
this  effort,  that  Marishka  were  not  here — that  Goritz 
had  gone  on — ! 

But  how  could  he  have  gone  on?  Surely  not  by  a 
road  guarded  by  an  army  at  its  other  end.  And  it  was 
only  last  night  that  he  had  seen  Goritz's  fellow  assassin 
and  hireling.  Marishka  was  within,  and  Renwick  had 
not  permitted  a  doubt  of  it  to  enter  his  mind  since  yes- 
terday. 

But  to  make  certain  of  the  matter  he  decided  upon 
further  investigation,  retracing  his  steps  for  some  hun- 
dred yards  down  the  declivity,  making  sure  of  his  land- 
marks as  he  went,  until  he  reached  the  lower  level  of  the 
valley,  where  crossing  a  brook  he  began  climbing  the 
steeper  slope  of  the  northern  mountain.  Here  a  greater 
degree  of  caution  was  required,  for  the  rock  upon  which 
the  Schloss  was  built  was  close  to  the  northern  slope  and 
it  was  over  the  eastern  reaches  of  the  northern  crags 

349 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

that  the  road  passed  which  led  to  the  causeway.  To 
make  his  investigation  more  difficult  of  accomplishment, 
most  of  the  mountain  side  was  in  bright  sunlight  while 
the  castle  was  in  shadow.  And  so,  it  being  now  the 
middle  of  the  afternoon,  he  decided  to  move  slowly  at 
first,  find  a  secluded  spot  and  eat  of  the  bread  and 
cheese  which  was  to  be  both  his  breakfast  and  supper. 

From  his  position,  well  up  among  the  rocks,  he  had  a 
view  of  the  tree-tops  of  the  valley  below  with  a  glimpse 
of  the  road  a  short  distance  from  the  spot  where  he 
had  crossed  it  in  the  morning.  The  ruined  end  of  the 
castle  he  commanded,  too,  from  a  new  angle.  He  was 
now  above  the  level  of  the  crag  and  made  out  among 
the  twisted  mass  of  stone  the  vestiges  of  what  had  once 
been  a  chapel,  and  a  watchtower.  There  was  an  arch 
which  seemed  to  lead  into  a  vaulted  structure,  but  from 
his  position  he  could  not  see  within  it. 

Renwick's  eyes  were  good  and  they  searched  the 
valley  below  him  ceaselessly.  He  thought  he  heard  a 
rumble  as  of  thunder  in  the  distance,  but  as  the  sky 
was  clear  he  knew  that  he  must  have  been  mistaken,  but 
after  a  while  along  the  road  below  him  more  soldiers 
passed,  riding  rapidly  and  silently — into  the  deeper 
shadows  of  the  gorge.  Their  clattering  wagons  fol- 
lowed, and  this,  Renwick  decided,  was  the  cause  of  the 
distant  sound  that  he  had  heard.  Once  or  twice  he 
thought  that  he  saw  motion  among  the  undergrowth  at 
some  distance  below  him,  but  decided  that  he  had  been 
mistaken.  Again — nearer  and  to  his  right.  There  was 
no  doubt  of  it  now.  Renwick  crawled  deeper  into  his 
place  of  concealment  and  peered  out. 

Some  one  was  climbing  up  over  the  rocks  below  him, 
mounting  slowly  a  little  farther  up  the  gorge.  He 

S50 


THE  RIFT  IN  THE  ROCK 

heard  the  crackling  of  twigs  and  the  sound  of  voices  in 
a  subdued  murmur.  There  were  two  of  them.  Ventur- 
ing his  head  beyond  the  leaves  he  got  a  glimpse  through 
the  trunks  of  the  pine-trees — a  tall  man  and  a  shorter, 
stouter  one.  They  were  more  than  a  hundred  yards 
away  and  moving  up  the  mountain  side  away  from  him, 
but  to  Renwick's  mind,  fixed  only  upon  the  men  he 
sought  and  those  who  sought  himself,  the  figures* 
though  wearing  rough  clothing  like  his  own,  seemed 
strangely  like  those  of  Herr  Windt  and  Spivak.  Of 
course  he  might  have  been  mistaken,  for  within  two 
miles  of  this  spot  at  least  two  hundred  people  lived,  but 
the  profusion  of  game  in  the  valley  confirmed  the  report 
of  his  host  of  last  night  that  the  peasants  who  lived  in 
the  vicinity  of  Dukla  were  not  in  the  habit  of  ventur- 
ing into  the  Pass.  And  if  not  peasants  and  not  the  men 
he  had  imagined  them  to  be,  who  were  they  and  what 
were  they  doing  here?  He  lay  quietly,  listening  for  the 
sound  of  their  footsteps  which  seemed  to  pass  toward 
the  castle  above  him  and  at  last  died  away  in  the  dis- 
tance. 

Windt  here  ?  It  seemed  incredible  that  he  had  traced 
Renwick  so  quickly.  Or  was  it  as  Herr  Koulos  had 
said,  that  the  same  sources  of  information  which  had 
been  open  to  Renwick  had  been  open  to  Herr  Windt 
also?  Was  he  seeking  Goritz  or  Renwick  or  both, 
trusting  to  the  relations  between  Renwick  and  Ma- 
rishka  to  bring  all  trails  to  this  converging  point?  If 
the  strangers  among  the  rocks  above  him  were  Windt 
and  Spivak,  he  was  indeed  in  danger  of  detection  and 
capture,  and  the  fate  of  an  Englishman  taken  armed  in 
a  region  where  Austrian  troops  were  massing  was  un- 
pleasant to  contemplate.  And  yet  Renwick  decided  that 

351  " 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

before  he  made  the  rash  attempt  to  mount  the  cliff  he 
must  further  investigate.  And  so  he  lay  silent  until 
nightfall  when  with  drawn  automatic  he  emerged  from 
his  hiding  place  and  quietly  made  his  way  along  the 
mountain  side.  He  searched  the  undergrowth  eagerly, 
as  a  man  only  can  when  his  life  depends  upon  the  keen- 
ness of  his  senses,  and  without  mishap  reached  a  point 
opposite  the  castle  where  he  commanded  both  the  court- 
yard and  the  mass  of  buildings  around  the  central 
tower.  The  distance  across  the  narrow  gorge  at  this 
side  of  the  castle  was  perhaps  two  or  three  hundred 
yards,  and  Renwick  from  the  shelter  of  a  bush  could 
see  the  windows  quite  distinctly.  As  the  night  grew 
dark  two  lights  appeared — both,  he  noted,  upon  the 
side  of  the  buildings  toward  where  he  sat — lights  which 
could  not  be  visible  from  the  deeper,  wider  valley  upon 
the  other  side  or  from  the  road  below.  He  saw  figures 
moving — the  small  bent  figure  of  a  woman  in  the  build- 
ing upon  the  left  which  seemed  to  be  the  kitchen,  a  man 
in  the  courtyard  near  the  gate  which  Renwick  had  seen 
from  the  other  side.  The  room  upon  the  right  near  the 
keep,  seemed  to  be  the  Hall,  for  the  windows  were  longer 
than  any  others  and  denoted  a  high  ceiling  within. 
There  was  a  light  here  too,  and  Renwick  watched  the 
windows,  his  heart  beating  high  with  hope.  In  his 
anxiety  to  see  who  was  within  the  apartment  he  forgot 
the  strangers  upon  the  mountain  side,  the  danger  of  his 
position,  the  hazardous  feat  before  him — all  but  the 
hope  that  Marishka  was  here. 

He  had  almost  given  up  hope  of  seeing  her  when  she 
appeared.  He  knew  her  instantly,  though  he  could  not 
easily  distinguish  her  features.  She  sat  in  a  chair  at 
a  table,  conversing  with  some  one  whom  he  could  not 


THE  RIFT  IN  THE  ROCK 

see.    A  pang  of  jealousy  shot  through  him.     Goritz — ! 

What  if  believing  him  dead  Marishka  had  learned  to 
tolerate  the  German  agent,  even  to  the  point  of  friend- 
ihip.  There  they  were,  sitting  face  to  face  at  table, 
as  they  had  done  for  two  months  or  more.  What  were 
their  relations?  Prisoner  and  captive?  And  which 
was  which?  How  could  he  have  blamed  Marishka, — 
Renwick,  a  dead  man? 

He  knew  that  she  had  grieved,  that  she  must  have 
hated  the  man  who  had  done  him  to  death — perhaps 
still  hated  him  as  Renwick  did.  He  peered  at  the  frag- 
ment of  Marishka's  white  dress,  the  only  part  of  her 
that  was  visible  to  him,  and  upbraided  himself  for  his 
unworthy  thoughts  of  her. 

And  when  the  dead  came  to  life  what  would  she  say 
to  him? 

Hedged  about  with  difficulties  and  dangers  as  he  was, 
the  sight  of  the  girl  so  near  him  and  yet  so  inaccessible 
was  maddening.  Now  that  he  had  discovered  her,  every 
impulse  urged  him  to  the  feat  of  scaling  the  wall.  And 
yet,  as  though  fascinated,  he  still  sat,  his  gaze  fixed  on 
the  bit  of  white  drapery  which  was  a  part  of  Marishka. 
He  tried  to  imagine  what  Goritz  was  saying  to  her,  for 
he  seemed  to  know  that  Goritz  was  her  companion, 
seemed  to  hear  the  murmur  of  their  voices.  He  waited 
long  and  then  the  white  drapery  vanished,  reappeared, 
and  Marishka's  figure  stood  in  the  window,  leaning  with 
one  hand  upon  the  casement,  in  silhouette  against  the 
light.  And  now  quite  distinctly  against  the  velvety  soft 
background  of  the  breathless  night  the  sound  of  her 
voice,  refined  by  the  distance  between  them,  but  fearful 
in  its  tone  and  significance. 

**/ — I  am  not  afraid  to  die,  Herr  Goritz"  it  said. 
353 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

Renwick  started  to  his  feet  as  though  suddenly  awak- 
ing from  a  dreadful  dream  into  a  still  more  dreadful 
reality.  Marishka  still  stood  in  the  window  motionless, 
but  the  words  that  she  had  spoken  seemed  to  be  ringing 
endlessly  down  the  silent  gorge  and  in  his  brain,  which 
was  suddenly  empty  of  all  but  its  echoes.  He  wanted 
to  shout  to  her  a  cry  of  encouragement — and  hope,  but 
he  remained  silent,  grimly  watching  and  listening. 

Marishka  said  something  else  and  then  turned  into 
the  room,  while  through  another  window  he  saw  the 
dark  figure  of  Goritz  pass  away  from  her  toward  the 
outward  wall.  Of  Marishka  he  saw  no  more,  but  at  in- 
tervals he  saw  Goritz  pacing  to  and  fro.  .  .  . 

How  much  longer  Renwick  watched  he  did  not  know, 
but  after  a  while  he  found  himself  stumbling  along  the 
face  of  the  mountain,  descending  by  the  way  that  he  had 
come,  Marishka's  words  singing  their  message  through 
and  through  him.  It  was  as  though  the  words  had  been 
meant  for  him  instead  of  Goritz,  that  Renwick  even  in 
death  should  know  of  her  danger  and  come  to  her  aid. 
He  was  coming  now,  not  as  an  avenging  spirit,  but  in 
the  flesh,  armed  with  righteous  wrath  and  a  fearful  lust 
for  vengeance.  He  understood  what  the  message  meant. 
Hers  was  not  a  cry  of  despair  but  of  defiance.  .  .  . 
What  had  happened?  He  had  not  seen. 

"I  am  not  afraid  to  die."  Nor  was  Renwick — but  to 
live  were  better — to  live  at  least  for  tonight.  Fury 
gave  him  desperation,  but  for  the  task  before  him  he 
needed  coolness,  too.  And  realizing  that  haste  might 
send  him  hurtling  to  the  bottom  of  the  gorge,  he  moved 
more  cautiously,  stepping  down  with  infinite  pains  until 
he  reached  the  brook,  which  he  crossed  carefully,  and 
then  moTed  back  up  the  declivity  toward  the  castle. 

354 


THE  RIFT  IN  THE  ROCK 

The  night  was  clear,  starlit  but  moonless,  and  the 
cliff  as  he  reached  it  looked  down  upon  him  with  ma- 
jestic and  sullen  disdain.  The  ages  had  passed  over 
and  left  it  scarred  and  seared  but  still  defiant  and  inac- 
cessible. Renwick  paused  a  moment  to  be  sure  of  his 
ground  and  then  boldly  crawled  up  over  the  chaos  of 
tumbled  bowlders  and  broken  masonry,  until  he  reached 
the  wall  of  solid  rock,  where  he  stopped  again  to  regain 
his  breath  and  examine  the  fissure  that  he  had  studied 
earlier  in  the  day.  It  was  a  cleft  in  the  rock,  the  re- 
sult of  some  subterranean  upheaval  which  had  caused 
the  whole  crag  to  settle  into  its  base;  a  fissure,  origi- 
nally a  mere  crack  which  had  been  widened  and  deepened 
by  the  erosion  of  time.  Upon  closer  inspection,  it  was 
larger  than  it  had  appeared  from  below,  perhaps  ten 
feet  in  width  at  the  outside,  and  tapering  gradually  as 
it  rose. 

He  entered  and  ran  his  fingers  along  its  sides,  pene- 
trating to  its  full  depth  until  there  was  just  room 
enough  in  which  to  wedge  his  bent  body.  Then  rising 
cautiously,  seated,  so  to  speak,  upon  the  incline  which 
seemed  to  be  about  thirty  degrees  from  the  vertical,  he 
dug  the  iron-shod  toes  of  his  peasant's  boots  into  the 
roughnesses  of  the  wall  before  him  and  rose,  pushing 
with  elbows  and  arms  where  the  wall  was  too  smooth 
for  a  foothold.  It  was  hard  work,  and  at  the  end  of  ten 
minutes,  perspiring  profusely,  and  leg  and  arm  weary, 
he  stopped  upon  a  projecting  ledge,  where  he  found  a 
perfect  balance  for  his  entire  body,  and  relaxed.  But 
he  had  gained  fifty  feet. 

Above  him  was  the  long  streak  of  pallid  light  shim- 
mering against  the  gloom  of  the  rock  like  the  blade  of 
a  naked  sword,  with  its  point  far  above  him  among  the 

355 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

stars.  For  a  full  five  minutes  he  rested,  and  then  went 
upward  again,  feeling  with  his  finger  ends  while  he 
braced  his  body,  taking  advantage  of  every  foothold 
before  and  behind.  At  one  spot  the  fissure  widened 
dangerously,  but  he  struggled  inward;  at  another  it 
went  almost  straight  upward,  requiring  sheer  strength 
of  fingers;  but  at  last  he  found  another  ledge  and 
braced  himself  with  his  feet  for  another  rest.  He  did 
not  dare  to  look  downward  now,  for  fear  of  dizziness, 
but  he  knew  that  he  had  already  come  high.  The  sword 
blade  was  shorter,  curved  now  more  like  a  scimitar  at 
its  tip,  which  showed  that  the  angle  was  greater. 

But  what  if  before  he  reached  the  rocky  platform, 
the  cleft  should  grow  too  narrow  to  admit  the  passage 
of  his  body?  It  was  too  late  now  to  think  of  any  such 
impediment.  He  struggled  upward  again,  slipping 
back  at  times,  clawing  like  a  cat,  with  toes  and  fingers, 
fighting  for  his  breath,  but  always  mounting  higher,  his 
gaze  upward  toward  a  star  in  the  heavens  near  the 
point  of  the  scimitar.  Would  he  ever  reach  the  top? 
Bits  of  the  rock  crumbled,  broke  off  and  flew  out  into 
space,  and  once  he  slipped  and  slid  outward,  only  sav- 
ing himself  from  destruction  by  the  aid  of  a  jutting 
piece  of  jagged  rock  which  caught  in  his  clothing.  A 
desperate  venture — but  successful,  for  with  one  final 
effort,  with  fingers  torn,  and  knees  and  elbows  bruised 
and  bleeding,  he  hauled  himself  up  to  the  level  of  the 
flat  projection  of  rock  upon  which  he  dragged  himself, 
exhausted  and  breathless,  but  so  far,  safe. 

He  lay  there  for  a  long  time,  flat  on  his  back,  his 
eyes  dimmed  with  effort,  his  gaze  on  the  stars,  which 
now  seemed  to  blink  in  a  friendly  way  upon  his  venture. 
To  succeed  so  far — failure  was  now  impossible.  Fear- 

356 


THE  RIFT  IN  THE  ROCK 

fully  he  peered  over  the  edge  of  the  cliff  upon  the  vel- 
vety tree-tops  of  the  valley  below.  Three  hundred  feet, 
four  perhaps,  and  beyond  to  the  left  where  the  crag  fell 
down  to  the  very  bed  of  the  Dukla  itself,  black  void — 
vacancy. 

Above  him  still  was  the  hazardous  climb  up  the 
broken  face  of  the  rocks,  but  he  did  not  fear  it.  His 
nerves  were  iron  now.  There  were  roots  growing  here, 
and  small  bushes,  stunted  trees,  growing  in  the  inter- 
stices of  the  rocks,  and  he  climbed  steadily,  always 
looking  upward,  toward  the  breach  in  the  wall  now  so 
very  near,  fifty  feet,  forty — and  then  the  wall  seemed 
to  hang  over  him  smooth  and  bare.  So  he  hung  there 
by  a  sturdy  branch,  one  foot  clinging,  and  studied  the 
surface,  descending  a  few  feet  carefully  and  then  ris- 
ing again  to  the  left  in  a  fissure,  swinging  himself 
along  a  narrow  ledge  where  the  masonry  of  the  bastion 
joined  the  rock.  Over  this  he  climbed,  finding  solid 
footing  at  last,  and  then  rest  and  a  breathing  space 
within  the  broken  walls. 

He  lay  behind  a  pile  of  rocks  which  had  fallen  from 
the  walls  of  the  watchtower,  recovering  his  breath  again, 
and  the  strength  of  his  fingers,  every  bone  of  which  was 
crying  out  in  prclest.  He  peered  over  into  the  depths 
below,  trying  to  measure  the  distance  he  had  come — 
three  hundred  feet — perhaps  more.  Could  he  find  a 
rope  of  that  length  within  the  castle — ?  After  a  while 
he  straightened  in  the  shadow  of  the  wall  and  peered 
cautiously  up  at  the  dark  bulk  of  the  keep  and  the 
tower,  beyond  the  ruined  chapel,  searching  its  roofs 
and  window.1  for  a  sign  of  life.  Silence.  The  ruin  was 
deserted.  For  half  an  hour  he  watched  and  waited,  and 
then  sure  that  there  was  no  chance  that  he  had  been 

357 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

observed,  rose  to  his  feet  and  moved  forward  stealthily 
into  the  shadows  of  the  chapel.  The  roof  had  long 
since  fallen  in  and  been  removed,  but  Renwick  stumbled 
over  a  dusty  tomb,  toward  the  fragment  of  altar  with 
the  reredos  still  showing  traces  of  sculpture,  partially 
protected  by  a  fragment  of  roof  over  the  apse  which 
had  been  spared  by  the  wind  and  storm.  To  the  right 
of  the  altar  was  a  Gothic  door,  which  had  at  one  time 
led  into  the  building  adjoining,  but  upon  investigation 
he  found  that  it  had  been  built  in  with  solid  blocks  of 
stone.  The  other  arch  of  the  vaulted  structure  outside 
which  he  had  noted  from  the  mountain  side  was  also 
filled  by  a  wall.  So  far  as  Renwick  could  see,  the 
ruined  part  of  Schloss  Szolnok  was  isolated,  with  no 
mode  of  egress  from  the  habitable  part. 

Renwick  had  screened  his  movements  as  far  as  pos- 
sible from  view  of  the  windows  in  the  keep  and  other 
buildings,  and  now  discovered  that  the  lowest  one  was 
at  least  fifteen  feet  above  the  level  of  this  rampart ;  and 
so  before  planning  any  action,  he  investigated  the 
guardhouse,  a  fallen  ruin  upon  the  north  bastion.  He 
seemed  to  make  out  the  forms  of  what  had  once  been 
the  stone  treads  of  a  circular  stair  in  a  tumbled  mass. 
At  first  the  appearance  of  the  place  discouraged  him, 
for  it  seemed  too  far  away  from  the  main  mass  of  build- 
ings to  furnish  any  communication  with  them,  but  as  he 
peered  among  the  fallen  masonry  he  thought  he  detected 
a  darker  spot  in  the  obscurity,  and  bending  forward  was 
aware  of  a  heavy  smell,  as  of  mold  and  dampness. 
Upon  investigation  he  discovered  an  irregular  hole 
under  the  mass  of  stone,  a  little  wider  than  his  body. 

He  dared  not  strike  a  match  for  fear  the  glow  of  it 
might  be  obserred  from  one  of  the  windows  of  the  keep, 

358 


THE  RIFT  IN  THE  ROCK 

but  testing  the  balance  of  the  heavy  stone  steps,  he  de- 
cided to  investigate,  and  so  lowering  his  legs  into  the 
dark  aperture  he  let  himself  hang  from  his  waist  and 
found  that  his  toes  encountered  solidity.  He  tested  his 
footing  with  his  weight,  and  then  let  go,  descending  into 
the  hole,  which  seemed  to  be  a  stairway,  leading  from 
the  tower  into  the  bowels  of  the  rock.  With  a  touch 
of  fingers  upon  the  efflorescent  walls  he  moved  cau- 
tiously down,  step  by  step,  sure  now  that  this  was  the 
ancient  corridor  by  which  the  men-at-arms  passed  from 
the  guardhouse  to  the  other  rampart.  Sixty-two  steps 
down  he  counted,  and  then  he  reached  a  level,  where  he 
paused  a  moment  to  look  at  the  vague  blotch  of  gray 
which  was  the  starlight.  Even  with  eyes  that  had  now 
grown  accustomed  to  the  darkness  he  could  see  nothing, 
and  so  deeming  himself  safe  from  observation,  he  struck 
a  match,  which  struggled  a  moment  against  the  foul 
air  and  then  went  out.  But  in  the  brief  moment  of 
partial  illumination,  Renwick  made  out  a  corridor  ex- 
tending straight  before  him,  slightly  downward.  He 
followed  it  cautiously  his  hands  stretched  out,  his  toes 
feeling  for  pitfalls,  and  at  last  came  to  a  rough  wall. 
Was  this  the  end — a  wall  which  shut  off  communica- 
tion with  the  ruins?  Emptiness  to  the  right.  He 
turned  and  followed  the  wall  blindly,  down  its  tortuous 
way,  aware  of  a  difficulty  in  breathing,  and  a  throbbing 
at  his  temples  down  which  the  moisture  was  pouring 
profusely.  In  a  while  which  seemed  hours,  the  rough 
wall  stopped,  and  his  fingers  encountered  a  wooden  up- 
right— a  doorway — open.  And  testing  the  stone  floor 
carefully  he  passed  through  it,  the  echoes  of  footfalls 
advising  him  that  he  was  in  a  larger  space.  He  peered 
in  all  directions,  seeking  a  sign  of  light  within,  for  it 

359 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

seemed  that  the  air  had  now  grown  fresher,  but  he  saw 
nothing,  and  so  striking  a  third  match  which  burned 
more  brightly,  he  held  it  over  his  head  for  a  moment 
and  looked  about  him. 

It  was  a  kind  of  crypt  in  a  good  state  of  preserva- 
tion, octagonal  in  shape,  about  twelve  feet  high,  and 
the  ceiling  was  supported  by  arches  which  sprang  from 
dwarf  columns  of  stone  at  the  angles.  From  the  center 
of  the  ceiling  by  a  heavy  chain  hung  an  ancient  iron 
lamp  which  still  contained  the  remnants  of  a  candle. 
There  was  a  heavy  wooden  table  at  one  side,  and  two 
heavy  chairs,  but  Renwick's  gaze  passed  these  quickly 
to  a  partition  of  rough  boards  in  one  of  the  walls  oppo- 
site, and  then  his  match  burnt  his  fingers  and  expired. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  DEATH  GRIP 

HE  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  stone  floor,  match- 
box in  hand,  trying  to  decide  what  he  must 
do  next.  As  nearly  as  he  could  judge  by  his 
observations  during  the  afternoon,  and  the  direction  of 
the  steps  and  passageways,  the  vault  was  somewhere 
under  the  main  group  of  buildings,  the  keep  or  one 
end  of  the  Hall,  two  or  three  stories  below  the  level 
of  the  chapel  floor.  Part  of  the  corridor  through -which 
he  had  passed  was  hewn  from  the  solid  rock,  and  part 
was  built  of  masonry.  The  wooden  partition  opposite 
him  was  obviously  the  beginning  of  the  used  part  of 
the  castle,  but  admitting  that  he  could  pass  it,  in  which 
direction  would  it  lead  him?  He  feared  to  strike  an- 
other match,  for  beyond  the  door  perhaps  someone 
might  be  moving.  It  was  now,  as  nearly  as  Renwick 
could  judge,  about  one  o'clock  in  the  morning.  He 
crossed  the  crypt  carefully  and  found  the  partition, 
feeling  its  surface,  which  was  made  of  rough  boards 
loosely  nailed  together.  He  put  his  eye  to  one  of  the 
cracks  and  peering  in,  could  see  nothing;  but  a  cur- 
rent of  warmer  air  which  came  through  the  slits,  slightly 
aromatic  in  odor,  warned  him  that  the  space  beyond 
was  surely  connected  with  the  habitable  part  of  the 
castle — a  wine  cellar  perhaps,  or  a  storage  room.  He 
debated  for  a  moment  whether  it  was  wise  to  use  an- 

361 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

other  light  and  then  at  last  decided  to  take  the  risk, 
and  as  matches  were  scarce,  found  the  ancient  candle 
in  the  iron  lamp,  which  after  sputtering  feebly  for  a 
moment,  consented  to  burn.  By  its  aid  he  examined 
the  dust  upon  the  floor  of  the  crypt,  which  showed  the 
imprint  of  no  footsteps  but  his  own ;  then  the  walls  of 
the  crypt,  discovering  immediately  another  door  which 
his  eyes  had  missed  in  the  earlier  glow  of  the  match, 
— a  narrow  door  open  to  the  left,  of  thick  wood,  with 
heavy  iron  hinges,  the  flanges  of  which  formed  the 
braces  of  the  door  itself.  He  blew  out  the  candle  and 
put  it  into  his  pocket.  Peering  through  the  keyhole 
and  seeing  nothing,  he  lifted  the  latch  and  tried  to 
open  it. 

His  efforts  proved  that  it  had  been  unused  for 
many  years,  for  the  hinges  had  sagged,  and  some  of 
its  weight  rested  upon  the  stone  floor.  But  with  an 
effort,  he  managed  to  move  it  an  inch  or  so.  Another 
effort  swung  it  clear  of  its  stone  sill,  and  at  last  he 
managed  to  open  it  wide  enough  to  admit  the  passage 
of  his  body.  But  with  this  last  attempt  the  rustj 
hinges  rasped  horribly;  and  so  he  waited  in  silence, 
listening  fearfully  for  any  sounds  in  front  or  behind 
him  which  might  indicate  alertness  above. 

Another  passage  lay  before  him,  a  narrower  one, 
which  soon  developed  a  straight  flight  of  narrow  stairs 
leading  upwards.  He  stood  for  a  moment  staring,  for 
the  gloom  above  him  seemed  to  lighten.  He  sat  upon 
the  lower  step  and  took  off  his  heavy  boots,  then  crept 
up  the  stairs  noiselessly,  reaching  a  landing  dimly 
lighted  by  a  small  slit  of  a  window  which  looked  out* 
upon  the  night.  Pausing  here,  he  was  enabled  definitely 
to  establish  his  position  within  the  castle  walls.  Be- 

362 


THE  DEATH  GRIP 


low  him  was  the  narrower  gorge,  opposite  him  the  cliff 
upon  which  he  had  crouched  this  afternoon.  He  was 
beneath  one  end  of  the  Hall,  and  from  all  indications, 
in  an  ancient  secret  passageway,  the  existence  of  which 
from  its  condition  had  for  years  been  forgotten.  At  the 
landing  there  was  a  heavy  wooden  door  upon  his  left. 
This  he  examined  as  minutely  as  possible  by  the  dim 
light  of  the  loophole,  peering  through  the  keyhole,  from 
which  exuded  a  faint  odor  of  gasoline.  It  must  be  here 
that  Goritz  kept  the  car.  The  platform  was  near  the 
lerel  of  the  rampart,  then.  Renwick  did  not  pause 
here  long  for  he  saw  that  the  stairs  turned  and  mounted 
again  in  the  opposite  direction. 

Renwick  felt  for  his  automatic,  and  leaving  his  shoes 
on  the  landing  by  the  window,  again  climbed  into  the 
darkness.  Another  landing — and  before  his  eyes,  now 
sensitive  to  the  slightest  lessening  of  the  gloom,  a  thin 
thread  of  light  crossed  the  narrow  passage,  terminating 
at  his  right  in  an  illuminated  spot  upon  the  wall.  It 
did  not  emanate  as  he  had  at  first  supposed,  from  a 
keyhole,  but  from  a  crevice  between  two  stones,  where 
the  joints  had  turned  to  powder.  He  peered  through 
eagerly,  but  his  range  of  vision  was  small,  covering 
merely  a  section  of  paneled  woodwork,  a  mullioned  win- 
dow, and  a  chair  or  two.  He  held  his  breath  and  lis- 
tened, for  he  fancied  he  heard  the  sound  of  footsteps. 
Yes,  there  they  were  again,  the  slowly  moving  footsteps 
of  a  man  pacing  to  and  fro — and  then  the  footsteps 
halted  suddenly  and  a  voice  spoke.  It  was  that  of  Leo 
Goritz. 

"Are  you  sure  that  you  saw  them?" 

"There  is  no  mistake.    My  eyes  are  good." 

"Did  they   remain  long?" 
363 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

*™**~<^—**~™~~—*-=i^^'—~*~~~*~i~~~^—~-~*ii*~—^^~~~~~~**^^^^—*~'^'^*^ 
i 

"For  twenty  minutes  or  so,  but  they  saw  that  the 
thing1  was  impossible  and  went  away." 

"The  situation  becomes  interesting,"  said  Goritz, 

"Rather  too  risky,  I  should  say,"  put  in  the  other. 
"If  the  Herr  Hauptmann  had  only  taken  my  advice  last 
week " 

"I  never  take  advice.  But  you  may  have  been  mis- 
taken. I  can  scarcely  believe  that  Herr  Windt  had  the 
skill  to  trace  us  here — unless 

"But  it  was  he.  I  was  peering  through  the  slit  ia 
the  postern,  not  twenty  feet  away.  I  could  have  killed 
him  easily." 

"But  twenty  feet  is  a  long  distance  when  two  hun- 
dred feet  yawn  beneath.  Let  him  come.  We  have  food 
enough  for  a  siege — ah,  there  it  is  again !" 

There  was  a  significant  silence  between  the  two  men, 
but  Renwick  listened  the  more  keenly,  for  he  heard  the 
deep  rumble,  as  of  thunder,  which  had  perplexed  him 
in  the  afternoon — a  reverberation,  repeated  and  con- 
tinued, which  seemed  to  make  the  very  flags  beneath  him 
tremble.  But  since  he  could  hear  and  feel  it  within  these 
solid  walls,  much  nearer  and  louder,  he  realized  now  that 
it  meant  the  roar  of  artillery — the  defiant  blasts  of 
the  Austrian  guns  at  the  end  of  the  Pass,  or  the 
triumphant  salvos  of  the  Russians.  And  the  voice  of 
Goritz  confirmed  him. 

"The  thing  has  come  rather  sooner  than  I  expected," 
he  growled.  "Donnerwetter!  Why  couldn't  the  Rus- 
sians have  put  off  the  attack  for  a  week !" 

"And  if  they  win  the  Pass " 

"Perhaps  it  is  just  as  well  for  us  if  they  do.  Herr 
Windt  may  neglect  us  in  the  general  scramble  for 
safety." 

364 


THE  DEATH  GRIP 


"He  is  not  of  that  sort,  Herr  Hauptmann." 

"Then  let  him  come.  Twenty  feet  is  a  long  jump 
eren  for  the  legs  of  the  Windt." 

Goritz  laughed  at  his  joke  and  then  yawned  sleepily. 

"You  may  go  now,  Karl.  Is  Strohmeyer  at  the 
gate?" 

"Yes,  Herr  Hauptmann." 

"You  are  sure  that  he  will  not  go  to  sleep?" 

"I  think  not." 

"The  signal  is  one  stroke  of  the  postern  bell.  He 
understands  ?" 

"Yes,  Herr  Hauptmann.     Any  other  orders?" 

"None  except  these.  That  he  is  on  no  account  to 
fire  unless  attacked.  But  this  fact  is  to  be  understood. 
No  man  is  to  pass  into  Schloss  Szolnok  tonight." 

"Zu  befehl,  Herr  Hauptmann." 

The  chauffeur,  Karl,  passed  across  Renwick's  range 
of  vision  and  the  steps  of  Goritz  resumed  their  pacing 
of  the  floor — more  slowly  now.  The  Englishman  had 
been  kneeling,  scarcely  daring  to  breathe,  and  now  he 
wondered  what  he  had  better  do  next.  Taking  infinite 
pains  to  make  no  sound  he  investigated  the  wall  of  the 
Hall  with  his  finger  tips.  There  was  a  door  here,  a 
secret  door,  he  thought,  hidden  from  the  interior  of 
the  Hall  in  the  paneling  of  the  wainscoting.  Did  Goritz 
know  of  its  existence?  The  floor  of  the  crypt,  it  was 
true,  had  shown  no  sign  of  footsteps,  and  the  door 
below,  Renwick  was  sure,  had  not  been  opened  for  many 
jears.  But  if  Goritz  knew  of  this  passage,  there  was 
a  chance  of  his  entering  and  finding  him.  Renwick 
dared  not  strike  matches  now,  and  determined  to  go  on 
until  he  had  mastered  all  the  architectural  details  of 
the  passage,  and  then  devise  some  plan  to  reach  Ma- 

365 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

rishka.  Balked  in  other  directions  he  could  return  to 
this  secret  door  into  the  Hall,  and  awaiting  the  de- 
parture of  Goritz,  force  an  entrance  and  trust  to  luck. 

But  there  might  be  some  other  and  less  dangerous 
means  of  reaching  Marishka.  Even  if  he  entered  the 
Hall,  he  would  have  no  idea  which  way  to  turn.  Bet- 
ter to  follow  the  passage  to  the  upper  floors,  if  it  were 
possible,  and  enter  above,  thus  creating  a  diversion 
which  might  add  to  the  advantage  of  his  surprise.  But 
did  the  passage  mount  higher?  Or  was — ?  His  ad- 
vancing toes  touched  something  solid.  Bending  for- 
ward, he  found  steps,  and  immediately  began  mounting 
them  on  all  fours. 

The  sleeping-rooms,  he  had  supposed,  were  on  the 
two  upper  floors  of  the  keep  and  in  the  buttressed  build- 
ing toward  the  south  which  was  a  part  of  it.  This 
was  the  direction  in  which  he  was  going  now.  He 
reached  another  landing,  as  nearly  as  he  could  judge 
by  the  steps  he  had  taken,  almost  over  the  crypt,  three 
levels  below.  This  was  the  keep,  then,  upon  his  left. 
With  pulse  beating  rapidly  he  felt  for  and  found  a 
wooden  upright — another  door.  He  paused  and  lis- 
tened. There  was  no  sound  nor  any  light  upon  the 
other  side.  So  he  went  on  slowly  until  at  a  distance 
above  him  he  saw  the  starlight  coming  through  an- 
other loophole,  the  counterpart  of  that  below  the  Hall, 
and  mounted  noiselessly,  peering  out  upon  the  wider 
valley  to  the  south.  He  had  therefore  traversed  the 
castle  from  one  side  to  the  other,  and  was  now  near  the 
top  of  the  buttressed  wing  of  the  keep. 

Breathing  in  deep  gasps  the  keen  night  air,  Renwick 
waited,  listening,  and  now  heard  again  from  outside  the 
thunderous  reverberations  of  the  battle  at  the  head  of 

366 


THE  DEATH  GRIP 


the  Pass.  He  had  been  so  intent  upon  his  mission  that 
he  had  forgotten  it !  But  now  the  furious  character  of 
the  engagement  was  obvious.  It  was  far  distant,  per- 
haps four  or  five  miles  away,  and  yet  the  wild  heavens 
were  aglow  with  strange  flashing  fires,  the  reflections 
of  the  bombs  and  star-shells  which  paled  the  ineffectual 
lights  of  the  firmament.  Battle !  Schloss  Szolnok,  too, 
should  see  battle — his  own  with  Goritz!  But  Renwick 
would  take  no  chances  this  time. 

The  heavy  reverberations  rose  and  died  away,  but  a 
fainter  spatter  of  sounds  continued,  the  deadly  counter- 
melody  of  machine-gun  and  rifle  fire  which  went  on  with- 
out intermission.  Far  below  the  Schloss,  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  road  along  the  Dukla,  he  heard  the  clatter 
of  transport,  and  the  calls  of  men. 

All  of  this  Renwick's  mind  assimilated  in  his  moment 
of  rest  and  recuperation,  but  beside  the  loophole,  clearly 
defined  by  the  flashes  in  the  heavens,  his  searching 
glances  made  out  the  uprights  of  another  door.  Here, 

perhaps He  bent  forward,  listening  at  its  cracks, 

and  then  knelt,  searching  for  a  latch  or  keyhole.  Noth- 
ing. But  as  he  turned  his  back  to  the  loophole,  shut- 
ting out  the  starlight,  he  imagined  that  he  saw  some- 
thing white  upon  the  stone  flagging.  He  leaned  for- 
ward to  pick  it  up  and  found  that  his  fingers  were  softly 
illuminated.  The  spot  was  the  reflection  of  a  dim  light 
within  the  room.  He  put  his  face  close  to  the  floor 
and  found  the  aperture,  a  small  hole  of  irregular  shape 
in  the  baseboard  of  the  door.  A  candle.  Someone, 
then,  was  within?  He  put  his  ear  to  the  chink  and 
listened.  A  muffled  sound,  faint,  but  agonizingly  defi- 
nite— a  woman's  sobs !  Renwick  straightened  and  then 
listened  again.  Silence.  Perhaps  he  had  been  mia- 

367 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

taken.  No.  There  it  was  again — fainter  now.  He 
ran  his  fingers  softly  along  the  edges  of  the  woodwork, 
seeking  a  latch,  a  handle,  but  could  find  none.  If  there 
were  a  secret  spring,  it  was  so  deftly  hidden  that  he 
could  not  discover  it.  But  in  the  brief  moments  of  his 
search  he  had  decided  that  he  must  enter  this  room  at 
all  costs.  And  so  rising  to  his  feet,  he  gave  up  trying 
to  find  the  secret  of  admittance  and  slowly  put  his 
weight  against  the  woodwork.  It  made  no  sound  nor 
yielded  to  his  pressure.  He  tried  it  again  with  the 
same  results.  Then  despairing,  and  desperate,  he 
struck  a  match  and  ran  it  quickly  along  the  jambs.  The 
hinges  were  concealed,  but  he  found  signs  of  them  at 
the  right.  To  the  left,  then — another  match — a  han- 
dle, a  knob — where?  And  then  just  as  the  third  match 
went  out  he  found  it — a  flat,  iron  lever  which  moved 
around  a  swivel,  cunningly  let  into  the  woodwork.  He 
caught  it  quickly  in  his  fingers,  twisted  it  down,  and 
then,  automatic  in  hand,  he  pushed  upon  the  door  which 
opened  and  swung  inward  upon  its  hinges. 

Renwick  waited  for  a  moment  in  the  doorway,  pistol 
in  hand,  blinking  at  the  candle  upon  the  table,  like  a 
cat  emerging  from  a  cellar,  searching  the  vast  room 
for  its  occupant.  A  huge  room  with  wainscoted  walls, 
with  heavy  hangings  at  the  windows,  massive  furni- 
ture, a  high  canopied  bed 

He  took  a  few  quick  steps  forward  into  the  room,  for 
a  figure  clothed  in  soft  white  had  started  up  from  the 
bed  and  was  staring  at  him  with  startled  eyes — Ma- 
rishka ! 

Renwick  was  hatless,  tattered,  covered  with  dust,  his 
face  streaked  with  grime  and  sweat,  and  the  short  beard 
that  he  wore  still  further  transformed  him.  But  it 

368 


THE  DEATH  GRIP, 


seemed  that  a  look  of  recognition  struggled  with  th<* 
terror  in  her  eyes. 

"You,  Hugh — again!"  she  whispered. 

A  pang  shot  through  him  at  the  pitiful  sound  of  her 
voice  and  at  the  words.  Had  her  sufferings 

"Your  spirit.  It  has — has  been — with  me  often, 
Hugh."  She  went  on  dreamily. 

"Marishka !"  he  whispered,  crossing  to  her  swiftly. 
"It  is  I — Hugh.  It  is  no  dream,  no  vision.  Awake !" 

She  brushed  an  arm  across  her  eyes  like  one  arousing 

',  from  a  deep  sleep,  and  then  straightened  suddenly  and 

still  uncertainly.     But  he  caught  her  by  the  arm  and 

brought  her  face  close  to  his  own  so  that  she  might  see. 

"I  didn't  die,  dear.  I  am  here  in  the  flesh- — to  pro- 
tect— to  take  you  away  from  this  place." 

"Then  I — I  have  not  dreamed?" 

"Not  now?" 

She  clasped  his  wrists,  his  shoulders,  his  face  with 
her  hands  to  assure  herself  of  the  truth,  and  he  took 
her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her  tenderly. 

"Marishka!"  he  murmured  again.  And  then  she 
seemed  to  grow  heavy  in  his  arms,  repeating  his  name 
breathlessly. 

He  was  frightened  for  a  moment  for  her  head  drooped 
away  from  him.  She  looked  so  piteously  thin  and  white, 
and  her  hands  were  ice  cold. 

"Marishka !"  he  pleaded.    "Marishka." 

Her  eyes  opened  again  and  her  smile  reassured  him. 

"Forgive  me,  Hugh.  The  joy  is  almost  more  than  I 
can  bear." 

"You  are  safe  now,"  he  whispered.  "Safe !"  And  he 
clasped  her  close,  holding  her  there  in  a  breathless  mo- 
ment oblivious  to  their  danger. 

369 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

Then  while  she  still  wondered,  Renwick  suddenly  re- 
leased her,  moving  quickly  to  the  door  by  which  he  had 
entered,  and  after  examining  the  mechanism  carefully, 
quietly  closed  it.  Then  he  turned  to  Marishka  and 
questioned,  while  still  seated  upon  the  bed,  she  regarded 
him  with  bewildered  eyes. 

"What  men  are  there  at  Schloss  Szolnok,  Marishka?" 
he  asked  quickly. 

"Goritz — the  chauffeur — and  Ena's  husband,"  she 
answered  slowly,  with  an  effort. 

"Strohmeyer?" 

"Yes.  The  two  men — at  the  farm — are  not  here — 
at  night." 

"Ah,  I  see "  And  then,  "That  other  door,"  he 

whispered  tensely.     "Is  it  locked?" 

"Yes.    I— I  locked  it  tonight." 

"You  feared?" 

"Hugh— until  tonight " 

She  stopped  and  shuddered,  until  he  came  to  her 
and  held  her  for  a  moment  in  his  arms. 

"He  will  not  frighten  you  again,"  he  muttered  be- 
tween set  lips. 

"Thank  God,"  she  whispered,  now  starting  up  as 
though  with  the  first  realization  of  their  position. 

"Have  you  any  plan  of  what  you  will  do?" 

"Yes.  Goritz  is  still  below  in  the  Hall.  I  have  a 
plan,  but  I  can  do  nothing  until  he  goes  to  bed.  Where 
is  his  room?" 

"In  the  keep,  along  the  passageway  outside." 

"I  see,"  thoughtfully;  and  then,  "Do  you  know 
where  I  can  find  a  rope — several  ropes,  stout  ones?" 

"I  do  not  know.     There  is  a  storeroom." 

"Do  you  know  where  it  is?" 
370 


THE  DEATH  GRIP 


"Yes,  I  think  so." 

"And  you  can  find  it — in  the  dark?" 

"I  think  so." 

"Is  there  any  way  of  telling  when  Goritz  goes  to  bed  ?*' 

"I  hear  his  steps  sometimes  in  the  corridor  outside." 

He  went  noiselessly  over  to  the  door,  listened  a  mo- 
ment and  then  returned. 

"No  sounds.  There  isn't  much  sleep  for  anyone  here 
tonight.  The  noise  and  the  knowledge  that  Herr  Windt 
is  somewhere  near ' 

"Herr  Windt!" 

"He  has  followed  us  here.  I  think  he  found  a  trace 
of  me  at  Bartfeld — the  village  beyond  the  mountain,** 
he  whispered. 

"But  we  might  go  down  through  the  castle  and  the 
courtyard — if  we  could  pass  the  man  at  the  drawbridge. 
Does  it  make  a  noise  when  it  is  lowered?" 

"Oh,  yes,  Hugh — a  dreadful  noise." 

"That's  awkward."  He  crossed  to  the  door  into  the 
wainscoting  and  listened  there,  then  at  the  other  door 
into  the  corridor,  and  returned  to  her. 

"For  the  present,  at  least,  we're  safe." 

He  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  held  her  silently.  Her 
arms  clinging  to  him,  she  raised  her  head  and  found 
his  lips. 

"Beloved,"  she  whispered,  "how  did  you " 

"I  followed  you  here — on  a  mere  fragment  of  a 
clew — but  it  was  enough." 

"But  he  shot  you " 

"I  was  well  cared  for — in  a  hospital." 

"You  were  wounded — dangerously?" 

"Yes,  but  I  don't  die  easily.     I'm  quite  well  again.** 

"Are  jou  sure?" 

371 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

He  laughed.  "Could  I  be  here,  else?  Your  cliffs  are 
steep " 

"You  climbed ?" 

"Yes,  up  a  fissure  and  through  the  ruins.  I  saw  you 
— there  in  the  window — from  across  the  gorge.  I  heard 
you  call,  Marishka " 

"Call ?" 

"That  you  were  not  afraid  to  die." 

"But  I  was  afraid,  Hugh — it  was  so  far — so  dark 
below."  She  shuddered. 

He  pressed  her  closer  to  him.  "Has  he — has 
Goritz " 

"Until  tonight,  Hugh — he  has  not  been  unkind,"  she 
said  slowly.  "I  was  sick;  he  nursed  me.  But  I've 
feared  him — I  fear  him  still " 

He  felt  her  body  trembling  against  his  own,  and  re- 
assured her  gently,  pausing  a  moment  to  listen  tensely 
for  sounds  at  either  door.  And  then — 

"Don't  worry,  dearest.  He  cannot  harm  you.  I  was 
not  spared  from  death  for  nothing." 

"I  am  not  frightened  now,  but  tonight  has  been  hor- 
rible— the  noise — my  terror  of  I  know  not  what.  It 
has  been  like  the  end  of  the  world  to  me." 

"The  beginning  of  our  world,  yours  and  mine,"  he 
said  confidently. 

She  straightened,  drew  away  from  him  and  put  a 
hand  before  her  eyes  again.  "Even  yet  I  cannot  be- 
lieve." She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  wide  gaze  that  still 
held  in  it  something  of  the  reflection  of  the  long  days  of 
helplessness  and  misery — something  more  deeply  spirit- 
ual than  he  had  ever  seen.  "Hugh,  dear,"  she  went  on 
softly,  "you  will  think  it  strange,  but  I — I  have  heard 
you  calling  to  me — speaking  to  me,  like  a  living  presence 

372 


here  in  this  room.  Not  as  you  are  now,  beloved,  but 
paler.  ...  I  thought  that  you  were  dead.  .  .  .  And 
so  when  you  came — at  the  door — I  thought — I  must 
have  dreamed——" 

"You  were  frightened,  dear." 

"Yes — terribly  frightened,  Hugh,"  she  confessed,  "by 
him — and  by  the  firing.  It  seemed  at  times  as  though 
the  castle  were  rocking  under  me.  Listen !" 

A  terrific  cannonading  began  again — louder,  more 
continuous  than  any  that  had  gone  before. 

"Yes — they  are  fighting  for  the  end  of  the  Pass,"  he 
muttered;  "the  Russians " 

"And  will  they ?" 

"God  knows.     I  pray "  ne  paused  and  scanned 

her  face  anxiously. 

"What,  Hugh?" 

"That  the  Russians  may  win." 

She  started  away  from  him,  her  eyes  widely  inquiring. 

"Why?" 

He  smiled  slowly. 

"It's  simple  enough.  Because  if  I  am  taken  by  the 
Austrians  I  shall  be  shot  as  a  spy." 

"You— a  spy !" 

"No,  not  really,"  he  said  soberly.  "But  I'm  an  Eng1- 
lishman,  an  enemy  of  Austria  armed  and  in  disguise. 
That  is  enough ' 

"They — my  people  would  shoot  you!"  She  whis- 
pered, horror-stricken. 

"I  have  no  illusions  about  my  fate — if  taken " 

"But  you  have  come  here — to  help  me " 

"Unfortunately  that  does  not  change  matters." 

He  put  her  gently  aside  and  went  for  a  while  and 
listened  at  the  doors,  and  then  came  back  to  her. 

373 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"Silence.  But  we  will  wait  a  little  longer,"  he  whis- 
pered. 

Marishka  caught  him  by  the  shoulders  and  looked  up 
into  his  eyes. 

"Hugh,  what  you  have  said  frightens  me.  You  mean 
that  you — that  we  are  enemies — you  and  I — because 
our  nations  are  at  war !" 

She  drew  away  and  held  him  at  arm's  length  while 
she  scrutinized  him  in  the  light  of  the  guttering  candle. 

"You — my  enemy,  Hugh  ?  I — yours  ?"  A  wan  smile 
came  proudly  to  her  lips.  "If  I  am  your  enemy,  be- 
loved, then  love  and  loyalty  have  perished  from  the 
earth.  And  you,  who  have  risen  from  the  grave  to 
come  to  me !" 

"Sh ,  dear,"  he  whispered.  "You  must  know  the 

truth.  Whatever  happens — here  in  the  castle,  the  Aus- 
trian troops  are  all  around  us.  Herr  Windt,  too. 
There  is  no  escape  for  me  unless  the  Russians  come 
through.  That  is  why  I  hope " 

Itarishka  put  her  arms  around  his  shoulders  quickly 
and  kissed  him  on  the  lips. 

"Then  I,  too,  pray  that  they  may  come  through," 
she  whispered  fervently. 

"Marishka!  I  do  not  ask  you  to  give  up  your  al- 
legiance  " 

"No,  Hugh.  I  give  without  asking.  Beloved,  I  want 
you  to  understand,"  she  said  solemnly.  "Those  that 
are  your  enemies  are  my  enemies.  You  would  have  died 
for  me — and  I,  can  I  do  less  for  you?" 

"Sh ,  Marishka,"  he  murmured,  "there  is  no 

death "  • 

"Death  can  be  no  worse  for  me  than  the  horrible 
atter  loneliness  without  you ;  but  whatever  comes,  I  am 

374 


THE  DEATH  GRIP 


yours,  Hugh — in  life — in  death.  I  owe  no  allegiance, 
no  fealty,  but  to  you,  and  I  have  kept  the  faith,  Hugh, 
even  here.  I  can  have  no  country  that  you  may  not 
share,  no  compatriots  that  are  not  yours  also.  My 
kingdom  is  in  your  heart,  beloved,  there  to  live  while 
you  will  have  it  so." 

"Marishka!"  He  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  held 
her  long  in  his  embrace,  and  she  clung  close  to  him,  her 
lips  on  his  in  this  final  test  of  their  plighted  troth. 
About  them  the  thunder  of  battle,  ever  approaching 
nearer ;  the  rumble  and  din  of  groaning  wagons  on  the 
road  below;  the  hoarse  cries  of  men;  the  whine  and 
sputter  of  laboring  motors  trying  to  pass  in  the  narrow 
road — confusion,  disorder,  chaos;  but  now  they  heard 
nothing.  For  them  the  earth  stood  still.  Nations 
might  totter  and  crash,  but  their  Empire  was  in  each 
other.  .  .  . 

Renwick  raised  his  head  at  last.  "Marishka,"  he 
whispered,  "it  is  time  that  we  made  a  move."  He  re- 
leased her  suddenly,  listened  at  the  doors,  and  then 
moved  to  the  table  beside  her. 

"First,  we  had  better  put  out  the  light — then  per- 
haps we  can  see  if  there  is  anyone  outside." 

Marishka  snuffed  the  candle,  and  they  went  to  a  win- 
dow overlooking  the  courtyard,  drew  the  hangings  and 
peered  out.  The  din  in  the  valley  below  them  was  in- 
creasing, a  hurrying  of  wagons,  horses  and  guns  in  the 
narrow  road.  Were  more  Austrian  reinforcements 
coming  up?  It  seemed  so.  From  the  mountains  be- 
yond, the  rattle  of  small-arm  fire  had  risen  to  a  steady 
roar,  but  the  detonations  of  heavy  ordnance  were  less 
frequent. 

"The  Austrians — may  be  winning,"  he  said  culmlj. 
375 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

She  pressed  his  hand.    "I  am  sorry,"  she  said  bravely. 

But  there  was  a  world  of  meaning  for  Renwick  in  the 
way  she  whispered  it. 

"Your  people  shall  be  my  people,"  she  murmured 
again.  "And  your  God,  my  God." 

He  could  only  return  her  pressure  in  silence. 

He  would  have  been  little  happy  if  he  could  have  said 
how  much. 

Together  they  peered  through  the  slip  of  the  silken 
hanging  to  the  rampart  below.  Flashes  of  reflections 
from  the  end  of  the  Pass  played  like  sheet  lightning, 
and  in  the  fitful  illuminations  they  could  see  the  figure 
of  the  old  man,  Strohmeyer,  reclining  in  the  shadow  by 
the  postern  gate.  The  drawbridge  was  still  raised,  and 
beyond  it  they  could  see  in  the  flashes,  the  length  of 
the  causeway  stretching  out  into  the  darkness  of  the 
mountainside  beyond.  Strohmeyer  did  not  move.  It 
almost  seemed  as  though  he  were  asleep. 

"What  makes  you  think  that  Herr  Windt  is  here?" 
asked  Marishka  suddenly. 

"I  saw  him  with  Spivak  yonder,"  and  he  pointed  to 
the  north  beyond  the  gorge. 

Marishka  was  silent,  her  eyes  eagerly  searching  the 
shadows.  Her  hand  was  trembling  a  little  with  the  ex- 
citement of  their  situation,  but  her  voice  was  firm  as 
she  whispered: 

"Perhaps  tonight  my  eyes  are  uncertain,  Hugh.  But 
do  you  not  see  something  moving  in  the  shadow  of  the 
wall?" 

"Where?" 

"Of  the  causeway — there,  beyond  the  chain  of  the 
drawbridge " 

He  peered  eagerly  in  the  direction  she  indicated. 
376 


THE  DEATH  GRIP 


"A   shadow ?"   he  questioned.      "I   can't — no — 

yes — it  moves — there !" 

"Yes — another  and  still  another.  And  they  are 
carrying  something." 

Renwick  watched  again  for  a  tense  moment. 

"Windt — and  his  men,"  he  said  with  conviction. 
"They  are  going  to  try  to  span  the  abyss." 

"Strohmeyer " 

Here  at  least  was  a  community  of  interest  with 
Goritz.  "They  will  win  their  way  across,  unless  he 
wakes,"  said  Renwick  tensely. 

"What  is  it  that  they  are  carrying?" 

"Timbers — see !  There  are  at  least  four  men  to  each. 
They  are  putting  them  in  the  shadow  of  the  wall.  Will 
the  man  never  wake  up?" 

"What  can  we  do?"  she  whispered  desperately.  "I 
could  call  out  to  him." 

"No "  he  said,  "I  don't  want  to  arouse  Goritz 

yet.     Ah!     They  have  slunk  away  again  to  get  more 
timbers,  I  think." 

"And  if  they  should  succeed ?"  '< 

"They  must  not.  One  man  could  hold  the  place  in- 
definitely from  the  protection  of  the  gate.  If  the  man 
would  only  wake!" 

But  Strohmeyer  slept  on. 

"And  Goritz?"  she  said  anxiously.  "Surely  tonight 
he  cannot  be  sleeping." 

"Perhaps  he  is  so  sure  of  himself — yes — in  the  pas- 
sage below  I  heard — there  was  to  be  a  signal — one 
stroke  of  the  postern  bell " 

"But  if  the  man  sleeps " 

"If  they  come  again — no  matter  what  happens,  we 
must  warn  him,"  he  decided. 

377 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 


"Sh " 

Renwick  felt  his  arm  seized  suddenly  bj  Marishka's 
icy  fingers  and  turned,  following  her  wild  gaze  into  the 
room  behind  them  listening.  The  anxieties  of  the 
night  had  made  Marishka's  senses  keen.  "The  door!" 
she  whispered.  "The  secret  door  by  which  you 


came  I 


i" 


Renwick  listened.  In  a  brief  lull  in  the  commotion 
outside,  he  heard  a  slight  sound,  near  and  startlingly 
distinct  like  that  of  a  rat  in  a  partition.  Then  in  the 
blackness  of  the  room,  a  gray  streak  appeared,  slowly 
widening.  The  door  into  the  secret  passage  had  opened, 
and  the  starlight  from  the  loophole  beyond  now  showed 
a  dusky  silhouette.  Renwick  felt  Marishka's  arm  clutch 
his  in  terror,  as  Goritz  noiselessly  stepped  forward  into 
the  room.  Renwick  had  instinctively  drawn  the  hang- 
ing behind  him,  and  he  and  Marishka  were  in  deep 
shadow  while  every  move  that  Goritz  made  was  clearly 
defined.  First  he  took  a  pace  toward  the  bed,  then 
paused  and  turning  struck  a  match  and  searched  for 
the  candle. 

He  was  in  shirt  sleeves.  Renwick  had  drawn  his 
automatic  and  could  have  shot  him  easily.  But  murder, 
in  cold  blood — even  when  his  life  and  Marishka's  de- 
pended upon  it !  Renwick  could  not.  He  saw  Goritz 
turn  from  the  lighted  candle  and  stare  toward  the 
empty  bed  and  then  quickly  search  the  shadows  of  the 
room.  It  was  a  long  moment  before  he  saw  the  blaze 
of  the  candle  beside  him  reflected  in  Renwick's  eyes 
which  peered  down  the  barrel  of  his  automatic. 

"What  nonsense  is  this — Marishka ?"  he  began. 

But  Renwick's  voice  cut  the  darkness  like  a  steel 
blade. 

378 


THE  DEATH  GRIP 


"Don't  move — Goritz.     Hands  up — high!" 

"Who ?" 

"Hands  up,  I  say "  And  as  he  slowly  obeyed, 

"Now  turn  toward  the  bed " 

Goritz  was  now  staring  at  Renwick  as  though  he  had 
seen  a  ghost,  but  he  knew  better  than  to  take  his  hands 
down. 

"You "  he  muttered.    "You're " 

"I'm  Renwick,"  said  the  Englishman  crisply.  "Now 
do  as  I  tell  you  or " 

He  paused  uncertainly,  for  at  that  moment,  behind 
him  through  the  window  came  the  deep  boom  of  a  bell. 

"The  drawbridge !"  cried  Marishka. 

"Ah !"  came  from  Goritz's  throat  as  with  an  incredi- 
bly swift  movement  he  smothered  the  candle.  Renwick 
fired  twice  and  then  threw  Marishka  to  one  side,  but 
there  was  a  crash  of  the  door  in  the  wainscoting,  and 
then  silence. 

"He  has  gone!"  cried  Marishka  somewhere  in  the 
darkness. 

"Wait!"  shouted  Renwick.  Some  instinct,  warned 
him  of  the  trick,  and  he  sprang  aside  just  as  Goritz 
darted  at  the  spot  where  he  had  been.  He  felt  the  rush 
of  the  man's  body  and  turned,  but  did  not  dare  to  fire, 
for  fear  of  hitting  Marishka,  so  he  ran  forward  toward 
the  window  and  presently  they  met,  body  to  body, 
clutching  in  primitive  combat.  The  man's  hand  went 
at  his  throat,  but  he  wrenched  it  away  again — again. 
His  arms  went  around  the  waist  of  his  adversary  low 
down,  in  the  attempt  to  raise  him  and  bear  him  to  the 
ground.  Goritz  was  now  striking  furiously  at  his  head, 
and  by  this  token  Renwick  knew  that  the  man  was  un- 
armed. Renwick's  furious  rush  brought  them  with  a 

379 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

thud  against  the  wall,  where  they  fell,  oversetting  a 
table  to  the  floor.  Amid  the  broken  furniture  thej 
struggled,  in  the  pitch  blackness,  with  their  bare  hands, 
for  Renwick's  weapon  had  been  knocked  from  his  fin- 
gers. In  the  rebound  from  the  wall  Renwick  fell  be- 
neath, Goritz  with  one  hand  upon  his  throat  with  a 
grip  which  was  slowly  tightening,  but  Renwick  man- 
aged to  tear  it  away  and  release  himself,  striking  furi- 
ously at  the  man's  face.  Goritz  was  young  and  strong, 
and  Renwick's  struggle  up  the  cliff  had  taken  awaj 
some  of  his  staying  power,  but  he  fought  on  blindly  in 
the  darkness;  grimly,  like  the  bulldog  that  holds  and 
ever  tightens  his  jaws,  no  matter  what  the  punishment 
he  suffers.  The  bulldog  against  the  wolf.  Goritz  was 
agile,  and  his  arms  were  strong  and  wiry.  He  struck 
and  tore,  but  Renwick's  arms  were  cracking  his  ribs, 
squeezing  the  breath  from  his  body.  He  struggled 
with  an  effort  to  one  knee,  and  in  the  change  of  positiom 
managed  to  get  the  fingers  of  one  hand  around  Ren- 
wick's throat  again.  They  rolled  over  and  over  upon 
the  floor,  first  one  uppermost  and  then  the  other,  but 
the  fingers  on  the  Englishman's  throat  were  strong. 
Fires  flashed  before  Renwick's  eyes  and  the  blood 
seemed  to  be  bursting  from  his  temples. 

His  grip  was  relaxing.  .  .  .  He  felt  his  strength  go- 
ing. Then  with  his  remaining  consciousness  he  was 
aware  of  a  warm  moisture  upon  one  of  his  wrists. 
Blood!  Goritz  had  been  struck  by  one  of  his  bullets. 
With  a  desperate  effort,  he  let  go  one  arm  and  struck. 
The  man's  grip  relaxed  and  he  tore  it  away,  gasping 
greedily  for  breath. 

Marishka  in  terror  had  at  first  slunk  into  a  corner, 
listening  to  the  fearful  sounds  of  the  combat — follow- 

380 


THE  DEATH  GRIP 


ing  it  with  her  ears  from  one  part  of  the  room  to  an- 
other. What  must  she  do?  Gathering  courage,  she 
passed  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and  grasping  for  the  table 
found  the  match  box  and  managed  to  light  the  candle. 

They  were  upon  the  floor  near  one  of  the  windows 
over  the  valley,  locked  in  a  deadly  grip,  breathing  in 
terrible  gasps.  She  must  do  something  to  help — some- 
thing— for  as  the  glow  fell  upon  them  they  seemed  to 
struggle  upward  against  the  wall  by  the  window,  upon 
the  sill.  She  could  not  make  out  which  was  which — 
but  instinctively  she  seemed  to  realize  their  deadly  pur- 
pose— death  for  one  or  both  on  the  rocks  below!  The 
hanging  at  the  window  came  crashing  down  and  en- 
veloped them,  but  they  did  not  know.  They  were  drunk 
with  the  lust  of  killing — mad ! 

Out  of  the  confusion  she  saw  Goritz  rise  smiling, 
straining  with  his  arms,  hauling  Renwick  over  the  sill. 
Death !  Hers,  too,  then !  With  a  cry  of  despair  she 
reached  them,  clinging  with  her  arms  around  Renwick' s 
waist. 

Goritz  opened  his  mouth  to  speak,  but  no  sound 
came  forth.  He  might  have  struck  her  down  but  he  did 
not.  Instead  he  rose  with  one  foot  upon  the  sill  in  one 
supreme  effort  to  throw  Renwick  over,  but  the  English- 
man, already  half  out  of  the  window,  got  his  right  arm 
loose,  and  swinging  with  all  the  strength  left  to  him, 
launched  a  terrible  blow  at  his  adversary.  It  struck 
him  on  the  point  of  the  chin.  Goritz  staggered,  lost 
his  balance,  toppled  for  a  moment  in  the  air,  his  grip 
on  the  Englishman's  collar,  which  tore  loose  as  he  fell 
— out — into  the  black  abyss.  .  .  . 

Renwick  sprawled  half  across  the  wide  sill,  but 
Marishka  clung  desperately,  dragging  him  in — to 

381 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

safety.  He  toppled  in  upon  the  floor  and  lay  motion- 
less while  Marishka  hovered  over  him. 

"Hugh !"  she  cried.     "Hugh!" 

Renwick  struggled  up  slowly,  trying  to  speak,  but 
his  chest  heaved  convulsively,  and  he  could  only  gasp 
meaninglessly. 

"All — right,"  he  managed  to  utter  after  a  moment. 

She  got  water  and  he  drank  of  it. 

"You're  hurt — you're  covered  with  blood." 

"No,  no "  he  gasped,  "winded." 

"But  the  blood!" 

"His.     I  had  shot  him — through  the  body." 

Marishka  peered  toward  the  window  and  shuddered. 

"His  face — Hugh— I  can't  forget." 

Renwick  struggled  painfully  to  his  feet. 

"Nor  I.  He  almost  did  for  me.  If  it  hadn't  beem 
for  you " 

"You'd  have  followed  him,  Hugh !"  And  then  almost 
inaudibly,  "Holy  Virgin!"  she  whispered. 

Renwick  moved  his  limbs  to  be  sure  that  they  were 
sound. 

"Close  thing,  that,"  he  muttered.     "Beastly  close." 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

BESIEGED 

SO  desperate  had  been  the  struggle  that  they  had 
forgotten   the  peril   of   the  drawbridge.      Shots 
had  already  been  fired  in  the  courtyard  but  they 
had  not  heard  them.    Now,  as  an  awed  silence  fell  upon 
them,  at  the  passing  of  Goritz  and  at  their  relief  from 
immediate  danger,   they  were   suddenly   aware   of   the 
sounds  of  commotion  outside  near  at  hand,  the  sharp 
crack  of  small  arms,  the  cries  of  men  and  the  booming 
of  the  postern  bell — calling  Goritz — who  would  never 
come! 

Renwick  staggered  to  the  window  over  the  courtyard, 
Marishka's  hand  in  his,  and  peered  out.  Somewhere  a 
great  fire  was  burning,  for  overhead  the  sky  was  copper- 
colored  with  its  reflections,  and  below  they  saw  dimly 
two  figures  crouching  in  the  shadow  of  the  postern  gate. 
As  they  looked,  three  men  emerged  from  the  wall  of 
the  causeway,  carrying  a  timber  with  which  they  ap- 
proached the  abvss,  but  as  they  neared  the  edge  a  flash 
darted  from  the  postern  and  the  foremost  man  fell. 
The  other,  with  a  rush,  tried  to  cast  an  end  of  heavy 
plank  across  the  intervening  space,  but  it  fell  short 
and  went  crashing  down  into  the  void  below. 

"They  may  be  able  to  hold  out  for  a  time,"  whis- 
pered Renwick,  "long  enough  to  let  us  get  away — come, 
Marishka — the  ropes !" 

383 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

He  took  the  candle,  and  she  opened  the  door  into  the 
corridor  which  led  to  the  keep.  Outside  they  met  the 
old  woman  Ena,  who  was  crouched  upon  the  floor  by  a 
window,  wringing  her  hands,  half  dead  with  fear.  But 
she  started  up  at  the  sight  of  Renwick,  who  led  the  way, 
and  then  looked  in  astonishment  at  Marishka. 

"Who ?"  she  gasped,  and  paused. 

"A  friend,  Ena,"  said  Marishka.     "Do  not  fear." 

But  she  still  regarded  Renwick  in  terror,  for  his  ap- 
pearance, disheveled,  torn  and  bloody,  was  not  one  to 
inspire  confidence. 

"The  Herr  Hauptmann !" 

"He  is  dead."  said  Marishka  quietly. 

"Dead!  Herr  Gott!"  And  she  shrank  back  into  her 
corner,  her  head  in  her  hands. 

But  there  was  no  time  to  delay.  Renwick  hurried 
Marishka  down  the  stone  stairway  to  the  Hall,  whence 
they  descended  to  a  lower  floor  to  the  storeroom. 

It  was  filled  with  a  conglomeration  of  dusty  odds  and 
ends,  boxes,  barrels,  bottles  innumerable,  the  relics  of 
the  hospitality  of  Baron  Neudeck,  but  at  first  they 
could  see  no  sign  of  what  they  were  seeking.  Above 
them  shots  sounded  intermittently,  and  the  roar  of  the 
distant  battle  never  ceased.  Renwick  searched  fever- 
ishly while  Marishka  held  the  candle  above  his  head, 
overturning  the  dusty  objects,  and  at  last  with  a  crj 
of  triumph  found  what  they  sought,  a  coil  of  heavy 
rope  in  a  far  corner.  He  dragged  it  forth  and  ex- 
amined it  carefully.  It  was  heavy  and  long.  Was  it 
long  enough?  There  was  no  way  of  telling  except 
by  measuring  in  yard  lengths,  and  no  time  to  risk 
that. 

There  had  been  a  long  interval  of  silence  on  the  ram- 
384 


BESIEGED 

part  above.  Had  Windt  succeeded  in  winning  his  way 
across? 

He  raised  the  coil  of  rope  from  his  shoulder  with  an 
effort  and  took  the  candle  from  Marishka's  hand,  mov- 
ing toward  an  arch  to  their  left,  seeking  a  direct  way 
to  the  boarded  door  into  the  crypt.  It  should  be  in 
this  direction — yes,  the  wine  cellar — here  it  was — the 
boarded  partition.  Marishka  took  the  candle  from  his 
hand  again  while  he  examined  the  fastenings — nails 
somewhat  rusted,  which  would  not  resist  leverage.  He 
found  a  piece  of  plank  which  he  inserted  in  the  edge  of 
the  door  and  managed  to  pry  it  open  a  little,  and  then 
bracing  a  foot  against  the  stone  wall,  made  an  opening 
wide  enough  to  admit  them. 

So  far,  so  well.  They  were  within  the  crypt,  but 
while  Marishka  waited,  Renwick  pulled  the  partition 
back  into  place  to  hide  their  mode  of  retreat  if  the  gate 
above  were  taken.  Then  moving  rapidly  along  the  tun- 
nel they  reached  the  steps  which  led  to  the  watchtower, 
where  Renwick  snuffed  the  candle;  and  they  climbed, 
emerging  at  last  among  the  ruins  with  their  precious 
rope.  If  they  could  get  down  they  would  crawl  through 
the  bushes  and  undergrowth,  making  their  way  before 
daylight  to  the  house  of  the  peasant  who  had  sheltered 
him  last  night.  Another  sum  of  money  would  secure 
their  immunity — at  least  for  the  present. 

To  the  northward,  the  sky  was  vividly  aglow  with 
the  reflection  of  the  flames  of  a  burning  house — fired 
perhaps  by  the  shells  of  the  Russians,  which  still  seemed 
to  be  bursting  not  far  away.  And  now  their  acrid  fumes 
were  poisoning  the  clean  night-wind  from  the  north. 
Below  them  in  the  valley  they  still  heard  the  sounds  of 
passing  transport,  and  the  hoarse  calls  of  men.  The 

385 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

battle  for  the  head  of  the  Pass  was  desperate — but  with 
such  reinforcements,  the  Austrians  would  hold  it.  The 
crackle  of  small  arms  after  a  slight  lull  rose  in  inten- 
sity to  a  continuous  roar.  And  while  Renwick  was 
making  the  end  of  his  rope  fast  around  a  huge  granite 
block,  there  was  a  tremendous  explosion  which  seemed 
to  tear  the  bloody  sky  to  tatters. 

"A  magazine  or  a  mine,"  muttered  Renwick. 

She  smiled  at  him  bravely,  and  resumed  her  watch  of 
the  windows  of  the  castle.  Here  in  the  open,  hidden 
from  the  courtyard  beyond  the  bulk  of  the  buildings, 
they  could  hear  nothing  of  what  was  passing  at  the 
drawbridge  gate.  The  silence  seemed  ominous.  Had 
Windt's  men  succeeded  in  bridging  the  gap?  As  yet 
there  were  no  signs  of  light  in  the  castle  windows,  ex- 
cept the  lurid  reflections  of  the  northern  sky.  But  in 
any  event  there  was  no  time  to  spare.  Renwick  tied  a 
large  knot  and  a  loop  in  the  end  of  the  rope  and  then 
carefully  lowered  it  over  the  northern  wall,  measuring 
its  length  by  his  arms,  as  it  went  over.  Fifty  yards, 
sixty,  seventy,  eighty — when  it  stretched  taut.  Eighty 
yards !  Sick  with  anxiety,  he  crawled  upon  his  stomach 
to  the  edge  of  the  precipice  and  peered  over  into  the 
abyss. 

The  rope  swung  like  a  giant  pendulum  from  side  to 
side.  By  the  luminous  heavens  he  could  just  see  the 
loop  at  its  end — at  least  seventy  feet  from  the  counter- 
scarp. Seventy  feet — or  fifty  or  even  twenty-five — for 
Marishka  sure  death  among  the  welter  of  jagged  rocks 
below ! 

Slowly  he  rose  and  faced  her.  She  read  the  truth  in 
his  dejection. 

"The  rope  is  too  short,"  he  muttered. 
386 


BESIEGED 


She  caught  him  by  the  hand. 

"I  can  climb  down  by " 

"No,  no,"  he  said  in  sudden  horror,  "it  is  not  to  be 
thought  of.  You,  at  least,  are  safe." 

"But  you ?" 

"Perhaps  something  may  happen.  We  can  at  least 
hide  in  the  wall.  They  may  not  find  us.  Come." 

He  descended  into  the  hole  among  the  broken  masonry 
and  lowered  Marishka  gently  beside  him,  and  there  for 
a  moment  upon  the  stairs  he  held  her  in  his  arms  while 
they  listened  again  for  noise  of  pursuit  along  the  dark 
passage.  Silence. 

She  drew  his  head  down  until  their  lips  met. 

"Your  fate,  Hugh — whatever  it  is — shall  be  mine." 

He  smiled  in  the  darkness.  A  love  like  this  was  worth 
fighting  for.  "We  shall  win — somehow,"  he  whispered, 
"we  must !" 

Together  slowly  they  retraced  their  steps  to  the 
crypt,  where  they  lighted  the  candle  and  listened  again, 
and  now,  faintly  above,  they  heard  the  sound  of  a 
shot. 

"They  have  not  won  through  yet,  Marishka,"  he 
said.  "My  cause  is  Goritz's  now.  We  must  hold  the 
gate." 

"I  am  not  afraid,"  she  said.     "We  can  still  fight." 

He  looked  at  her  pale  face  in  admiration,  for  the 
fire  of  resolution  glowed  in  her  eyes. 

"Yes,"  he  muttered  grimly,  "we  can  still  fight."  And 
then,  "Are  there  any  weapons  here?" 

"In  the  armory — come !"  And  she  led  the  way  up 
the  stair.  But  as  they  searched  the  Hall,  Ena  hobbled 
down  the  stone  stairway  from  above,  shrieking,  and 
threw  herself  at  their  feet.  They  could  not  make  out 

387 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

what  she  said,  but  Renwick  rushed  to  the  door  and 
peered  out  toward  the  postern.  Upon  the  flagging,  a 
figure  lay  motionless,  and  the  other  man  was  nowhere 
to  be  seen.  But  worse  than  that,  as  though  aware  of 
their  advantage,  in  the  causeway  beyond,  several  men 
were  advancing,  bearing  another  timber.  Renwick's 
eye  appraised  the  situation  hurriedly  and  he  planned 
quickly,  for  delay  would  be  fatal.  As  he  reloaded  the 
clip  of  his  automatic  he  ordered  quickly. 

"Marishka,  I  have  a  plan.  There  are  two  joists  at 
the  foot  of  the  stair — not  very  heavy.  You  and  Ena 
must  bring  them  up  here.  Then  get  what  loaded 
weapons  you  can.  Bring  them  here,  too.  Lose  no  time. 
I  will  return." 

And  leaving  her,  he  dashed  out  of  the  door,  and  run- 
ning to  the  right  gained  the  protection  of  the  rampart, 
behind  which  he  crawled  toward  the  gate.  Where  was 
the  other  man,  the  chauffeur,  Karl? 

In  a  moment  he  learned.  For  as  Renwick  ap- 
proached, the  men  upon  the  other  side  succeeded  in 
spanning  the  abyss,  and  one  of  them  rushed  over.  When 
the  man  was  halfway  across,  a  shot  rang  out  from  the 
gate  and  the  man  on  the  board  swayed  and  fell.  An- 
other followed  and  another  shot  rang  out,  but  the  man 
still  came  on. 

Renwick,  running  forward,  shouted  a  word  of  encour- 
agement. He  saw  the  man  Karl  rise  from  his  conceal- 
ment and  meet  the  fellow  just  as  he  reached  the  gate, 
striking  him  a  blow  which  made  him  lose  his  balance 
and  fall.  Then  he  swung  the  end  of  the  timber  free  and 
it  fell  into  the  gorge  as  he  sprang  back  to  safety,  but 
before  he  reached  the  protection  of  the  gate,  several 
flashes  darted  from  the  causeway  and  the  chauffeur 

388 


BESIEGED 


staggered  and  dropped  forward  upon  his  face  just  as 
Renwick  reached  him. 

"Your  orders,  Herr  Hauptmann,"  he  gasped.     "But 

they're    too    many — my    cartridges — are    gone ' 

He  turned  with  a  groan,  and  for  the  first  time  saw 

Renwick's   face.      "You "   he  muttered.      "You're 

not ?" 

"It  doesn't  matter  who  I  am.    Are  you  badly  hurt?" 

"Donnerwetter!  Yes — through  the  breast — I'm  done 
for." 

But  Renwick  stepped  past  him  and  found  a  loophole 
through  which  he  could  watch  what  was  passing  upon 
the  other  side  of  the  abyss. 

The  last  disaster  had  robbed  the  besiegers  of  some  of 
their  enthusiasm,  for  they  had  withdrawn  to  the  other 
end  of  the  causeway  where  they  were  holding  council. 
Searching  the  shadows  of  the  wall  for  signs  of  any 
others  concealed  near  at  hand,  Renwick  took  the  chance 
of  leaving  the  gate  unguarded,  and  in  the  shadow  of 
the  wall  rushed  back  to  the  Hall.  There  he  found 
Marishka  with  the  two  joists,  waiting  for  him. 

"They've  withdrawn,"  he  said,  "but  they'll  be  com- 
ing on  again  in  a  moment.  We  are  alone,  dear,  to  de- 
fend the  gate.  Can  you  help?" 

She  was  deathly  pale,  but  she  smiled  at  him  bravely. 
He  picked  up  the  two  joists  and  carried  them  outside 
while  she  followed  him,  listening. 

"You  on  one  side  of  the  gate,  I  on  the  other.  If 
they  succeed  in  throwing  a  timber  across,  we  must  push 
it  off.  In  this  way  neither  of  us  need  expose  our- 
selves." 

"I  understand — and  there  are  rifles  and  shotguns." 

"Good !    Can  you  load  them?" 
389 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

"Strohmeyer  loaded  them  while  Karl  kept  the  gate, 
but  Ena  was  afraid  to  take  them  out." 

"Then  bring  them.  You're  quite  safe  if  you  keep 
below  the  wall  of  the  rampart.  Now  go,  dear — and 
God  bless  you!" 

He  reached  the  gate  before  Windt's  men  returned  to 
the  attack,  and  put  one  of  his  new  weapons  of  defense 
upon  each  side  of  it.  But  he  feared  to  leave  the  gate 
again  and  crouched,  waiting.  Below  in  the  valley  the 
commotion  had  increased  and  the  sounds  of  firing  went 
on  unceasingly.  It  seemed  indeed,  as  Marishka  had 
said,  that  the  end  of  the  world  had  come.  Beside  him, 
the  man  Karl  was  breathing  with  difficulty.  From  his 
post  at  the  loophole,  Renwick  heard  him  mutter,  and 
as  the  road  was  still  clear,  he  listened. 

"You're  Renwick — the  Englishman?"  he  whispered 
hoarsely. 

"I  am." 

"And  Herr  Hauptmann  Goritz?" 

"He  is  dead,"  replied  Renwick. 

"Ach — danke,"  said  the  man.  "It  is  well  then — you 
too — soon " 

He  nodded  forward,  toppled  sideways  and  lay  still. 

The  situation  was  desperate,  and  yet  as  Renwick 
thought  calmly,  he  gained  courage.  With  Marishka 
upon  one  side  and  him  on  the  other  armed  with  the 
joists,  it  would  be  difficult  for  the  attackers  to  get  a 
lodgment  for  their  bridges,  for  the  stone  outside  the 
gate  was  quite  smooth,  and  little  effort  would  be  re- 
quired to  push  their  timbers  down.  Both  Strohmeyer 
and  Karl  had  lost  their  lives  by  exposing  themselves 
unnecessarily.  But  with  the  two  joists,  both  sides  of 
the  gate  could  be  commanded.  In  a  moment,  creeping 

390 


BESIEGED 

under  the  protection  of  the  wall,  Marishka  joined  him, 
bringing  two  rifles. 

"Are  they  coming?"  she  asked. 

"Not  yet.     But  they  will  soon." 

He  explained  his  plan  more  fully,  then  bade  her  go 
back  for  another  rifle,  ammunition;  and  return  in  the 
protection  of  the  opposite  wall  to  the  post  opposite. 

"They  can  do  nothing  unless  they  bring  artillery," 
he  said  confidently.  "Don't  expose  yourself  or  look  out, 
but  if  a  plank  comes  over,  push  it  down." 

She  smiled  and  slipped  away  into  the  darkness,  and 
Renwick  returned  to  his  loophole.  The  sky  above  was 
getting  lighter,  and  a  glance  up  the  mountain  side  to 
his  left  showed  it  already  in  clear  profile  against  the 
lightening  east,  which  announced  the  coming  of  the 
dawn.  And  with  the  dawn — light.  Was  this  what  the 
attackers  were  waiting  for  ? 

He  saw  the  gray  figure  of  Marishka  creep  along  the 
opposite  wall,  and  in  a  moment  she  was  there,  not  ten 
feet  away  at  her  post,  crouched  in  safety  and  waiting. 

"On  no  account  look  through  the  loophole,"  he  or- 
dered. As  the  light  grows,  there  will  be  men  to  shoot  at 
them.  Keep  under  cover.  Understand  ?" 

She  only  laughed  hysterically. 

In  a  moment,  as  the  light  grew,  he  warned  her  that 
they  were  coming  again. 

"Keep  in,"  he  cried.  "Don't  try  to  look  at  the  end 
of  the " 

The  warning  came  just  in  time,  for  a  fusillade  of  bul- 
lets swept  the  gate  and  they  heard  the  sounds  of  many 
men's  voices  as  they  came  on  the  run.  Another  fusil- 
lade which  sent  dust  and  fragments  of  stone  flying  all 
about  them !  Then  a  timber  crashed  across,  but  before 

391 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

it  settled  into  place  the  two  joists  had  pushed  it  off  the 
smooth  landing.  At  the  same  time  another  volley  was 
fired  which  would  have  surely  found  a  mark  if  Renwick 
had  exposed  himself,  but  Marishka  matched  her  action 
to  Renwick's,  crouching  low,  safe  from  observation,  pole 
in  hand,  eagerly  watching  her  half  of  the  gate. 

Another  timber — which  fell  harmlessly  and  crashed 
down  into  the  gorge,  and  another  volley — alike  harm- 
less to  the  defenders.  High  hopes  rose  in  Renwick. 
They  could  do  nothing.  Opposite  him  Marishka,  for- 
getting all  her  fears,  had  caught  the  contagion  of  suc- 
cessful resistance  and  crouched,  her  jaws  set,  eyes 
sparkling,  her  slender  hands  grasping  the  rough  tim- 
ber, undaunted  and  resolute. 

"Keep  under  cover "  he  shouted,  as  another  tim- 
ber came  across. 

This  one  was  better  cast  and  lodged  squarely  upon 
the  stone  lintel.  They  both  shoved  at  its  end,  but  a 
man's  weight  already  upon  it  made  their  task  difficult. 

"It  is  on  my  side.     Push,  Marishka!" 

He  aimed  his  automatic  past  the  edge  of  the  gate- 
post and  shot  the  man — an  Austrian  soldier — just  as 
he  sprang  for  the  landing.  He  fell  upon  the  stone, 
hung  to  the  timber  a  moment,  and  fell.  Renwick  sprang 
further  out  and  emptied  his  clip  at  the  next  man,  who 
gave  a  cry  and  dropped.  Renwick  felt  a  stinging  blow 
on  his  left  arm,  but  before  another  man  began  to  cross 
Marishka  managed  to  shove  the  timber  clear  and  it 
fell  into  the  abyss  below. 

They  were  safe  for  the  moment.  He  looked  at  Ma- 
rishka in  the  gathering  light.  She  was  pale  as  death, 
but  she  did  not  show  fear. 

"All  right?"  he  asked  anxiously. 
392 


BESIEGED 

"Yes — yes,"  she  gasped,  "and  you?" 

"Never  better." 

His  arm  burned  like  a  live  coal,  but  the  madness  of 
battle  was  in  his  blood  and  he  did  not  care — so  long 
as  Marishka  did  not  know  of  his  injury.  The  firing 
had  ceased  for  the  moment,  as  he  crawled  up  and  peered 
through  the  loophole. 

"We've  beaten  them,  Marishka,"  he  cried  triumph- 
antly. "They've  gone  back — I  see  no  timbers.  They're 
doing  something.  I  can  see  quite  plainly  now — fasten- 
ing a  handkerchief  to  the  muzzle  of  a  rifle."  And  as 
she  rose  to  look,  "Don't  expose  yourself.  It  may  be 
a  trick.  For  God's  sake,  keep  down." 

He  picked  up  the  magazine  rifle  beside  him  and  thrust 
it  through  the  loophole,  covering  the  two  men  who  were 
advancing  to  the  brink  of  the  abyss.  In  the  pale  light 
he  marked  the  figure  of  Windt  quite  clearly.  The  other 
man  wore  the  uniform  of  an  officer  of  Austrian  in- 
fantry. And  now  he  heard  the  voice  of  the  officer  raised 
in  parley. 

"Schloss  Szolnok — a  truce !" 

For  reply  Renwick  thrust  the  muzzle  of  his  rifle 
further  through  the  loophole. 

"In  the  name  of  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  I  com- 
mand you  to  deliver  Herr  Hauptmann  Leo  Goritz." 

Renwick  laughed  madly. 

"I  regret  that  that  is  impossible." 

"I  beg  that  you  will  listen  to  reason.  Austrian 
troops  are  all  about  you.  You  cannot  resist  by  day- 
light. If  you  will  deliver  the  person  of  Herr  Haupt- 
mann Goritz  and  Countess  Strahni,  we  will  leave  you  in 
peace." 

Renwick  paused.  Far  below  in  the  valley  to  his  right, 
393 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

a  new  sound  broke  the  stillness  of  the  early  morning — 
rifle-fire  close  at  hand,  rapid  volleys,  and  then  a  scat- 
tering of  shots  which  echoed  with  a  new  significance  up 
the  mountain  side.  He  peered  through  one  of  the 
crenelations  of  the  rampart  beside  him  and  could  just 
see  through  the  morning  mists  the  moving  mass  of  rush- 
ing men, — horses — guns  in  mad  confusion. 

"Well,  what  is  your  reply?"  came  the  voice  of  the 
Austrian  officer. 

Renwick  laughed  again. 

"Why  should  you  leave  us  in  peace  if  you  can  take 
the  drawbridge?"  he  shouted. 

"Hauptmann  Goritz  is  wanted  on  the  charge  of  mur- 
der. I  give  you  this  chance.  Will  you  take  it?" 

"I  regret  that  it  is  impossible,"  replied  Renwick. 

"Why?" 

"Because  Herr  Hauptmann  Goritz  is  dead." 

"Dead?  What  assurances  can  I  have  that  this  is 
the  truth?" 

"You  have  only  to  look  at  the  foot  of  the  cliff  be- 
low. 

The  two  men  consulted  for  a  moment  and  then  Herr 
Windt's  voice  was  heard.  "Is  Countess  Strahni  there?" 

"Yes — and  quite  safe." 

"And  who  are  you?" 

"My  name  is  Hugh  Renwick,  Herr  Windt — 

"Renwick — the  Englishman "  he  heard  him  gasp. 

"Precisely.  And  if  you're  going  to  take  this  gate, 
you'd  better  be  in  a  hurry  about  it — for  the  Russians 
are  approaching." 

"Then  you  refuse?" 

"Positively." 

The  Austrian  officer  saluted,  and  the  two  men 
394 


BESIEGED     

marched  up  the  causeway.  Marishka,  on  the  other  side 
of  the  gate,  had  started  up  and  was  regarding  him 
anxiously. 

"What  you  say,  Hugh— it  can't  be  that — ; — " 

"It's  true,  dear,"  he  almost  shouted.  "The  Russians. 
They're  coming  below  there  in  the  valley*  I  have  just 
seen.  The  Austrians  are  in  full  retreat.  The  army 
has  been  retreating  all  night,  and  we  thought  there 
were  reinforcements.  If  we  can  hold  out  a  short  while 
longer,  we  will  be  safe.  Are  you  frightened?" 

"No.     Will  they  come  again,  you  think?" 

"Yes.  They'll  hardly  give  up  so  easily.  But  keep 
down,  Marishka,  further — in  the  corner.  You  can  see 
as  well.  Ah !  I  wasn't  mistaken.  Here  they  come !" 

Into  the  squad  of  Austrian  soldiers  advancing  Ren- 
wick  emptied  the  magazine  of  his  repeating  rifle,  and 
took  up  the  other.  Two  men  fell  and  the  remainder 
paused,  only  to  be  brought  on  by  the  Austrian  officer 
who  led  them,  sword  in  hand.  Renwick  could  have  shot 
him  easily,  but  he  held  his  fire  and  as  the  mass  of  men 
came  on  he  saw  them  raise  their  rifles  to  their  shoul- 
ders. 

"Keep  down!"  he  shouted  to  Marishka,  "they're  go- 
ing to " 

Dust  and  mortar  flew  from  the  ancient  gate  and  be- 
hind in  the  castle,  windows  crashed. 

"You  are  safe?"  he  shouted. 

"Yes,"  her  voice  replied. 

"Now  watch  the  gateway." 

A  plank  came  over,  but  profiting  by  their  earlier 
experience,  they  shoved  it  off  before  it  came  to  rest. 
Another,  a  longer  one,  and  another,  both  of  which  found 
lodgment  squarely  between  the  gate  posts.  Renwick 

395 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

sprang  to  the  loophole;  but  the  volley  that  followed 
spattered  harmlessly  around  him. 

He  was  a  good  shot  with  a  rifle,  and  aimed  deliber- 
ately, dropping  the  first  man  that  put  his  foot  on  the 
hazardous  bridge.  Gasping  with  her  exertions  Ma- 
rishka  pushed  the  shorter  timber  over,  but  the  longer 
one  jammed  hopelessly  against  the  gate  post. 

"Hugh,"  she  cried,  "we  are  lost." 

But  a  strange  thing  happened  then.  For  as  the  sec- 
ond man  approached  the  bridge  and  had  even  put  one 
foot  upon  it,  a  shrill  call  rang  out  at  the  other  end 
of  the  causeway. 

"The  retreat!"  the  officer  shouted.  "To  the 
rear " 

The  look  of  relief  upon  the  face  of  the  brave  fellow 
who  was  venturing  death  upon  the  precarious  timber 
was  reflected  in  Renwick's  own  heart,  for  he  spared  the 
man  who,  with  a  startled  glance  over  his  shoulder,  pres- 
ently caught  up  with  the  rapidly  vanishing  Windt.  Ren- 
wick  rushed  out  and  lifting  the  dangerous  timber  hurled 
it  down  into  the  gorge. 

Then  he  caught  Marishka  by  the  waist  and  lifted  her. 

"We're  safe,  dear — they've  gone "  he  cried. 

She  turned  one  look  up  at  him  and  then,  slowly  clos- 
ing her  eyes,  sank  back  helpless  in  his  arms. 

"Marishka!     It  has  been  too  much " 

The  blood  flowed  from  a  slight  cut  upon  her  cheek 
where  she  had  been  struck  by  a  piece  of  flying  stone, 
but  he  saw  that  it  was  not  deep.  He  laid  her  gently 
upon  the  flagging,  and  ran  to  the  Hall  for  water.  There 
he  found  Ena,  crouched  in  a  corner,  more  dead  than 
alive.  But  he  commanded  her  to  come  and  bring  water 
and  brandy,  and  she  obeyed. 

396 


BESIEGED 

Marishka  had  only  fainted  and  the  brandy  soon  re- 
stored her. 

"They've  gone?"  she  asked  of  him. 

"Yes,  dear.  We're  quite  safe.  Listen.  The  Rus- 
sians are  driving  them  down  the  valley." 

He  washed  the  wound  in  her  cheek  tenderly. 

"It  will  not  scar  you,  Marishka,"  he  smiled.  "But 
if  it  does — an  honorable  scar  such  as  no  woman  of 
Austria  wears." 

She  touched  it  with  her  fingers  and  smiled. 

"I  did  not  even  know " 

And  then  she  saw  the  blood  at  his  shoulder. 

"You're  hurt?" 

"Only  a  scratch.     It's  nothing." 

But  weak  as  she  was  she  tore  away  the  sleeve  of  his 
shirt,  and  made  him  bathe  and  bind  it  with  linen  from 
her  skirt. 

"Will  the  Russians  come  here,  you  think  ?"  she  asked. 

He  smiled. 

"If  they  don't  come  to  us,"  he  said  soberly,  "we  will 
go  to  them." 

She  smiled. 

"  'And  your  people  shall  be  my  people  .  .  .' "  she 
murmured  softly. 

Galenski,  Colonel  of  Russian  cavalry,  sat  on  his 
horse  on  a  slight  eminence  beside  the  road  which  de- 
scended from  Dukla  Pass  into  the  valley  beyond,  watch- 
ing through  a  pair  of  field  glasses  the  ramparts  of 
an  ancient  castle  perched  upon  a  crag. 

Beside  him  his  regiment  streamed  down  the  hill  at  a 
hand  gallop,  its  gray  coats  flapping,  as  it  spread  out 
fanwise  in  the  meadow  below,  its  lances  lightly  poised 

397 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

in  pursuit  of  the  fleeing  Austrians.  As  a  company 
captain  passed  he  called  out  a  name,  and  the  officer, 
with  a  word  to  his  lieutenant,  galloped  up  and  saluted. 

"Is  not  that  Schloss  Szolnok,  Captain  Kotchukoff?" 

"Yes,  sir.  You  remember — the  affair  of  Baron  Neu- 
deck." 

"Of  course.  I  have  been  watching  it,  as  we  came 
down  the  road.  Fighting  has  been  going  on  there  for 
an  hour  or  more." 

"Fighting?" 

"Yes.  I  don't  understand.  The  Austrians  were  at- 
tacking it.  I  am  certain  for  I  clearly  made  out  the 
kepi  of  the  infantry." 

"That  is  strange." 

"Is  it  possible  that  some  of  our  advance  posts  could 
have  occupied  it?" 

"I  should  say  that  that  was  impossible." 

"We  must  investigate.  Detach  your  company  frora 
the  command  and  bring  your  men  up  the  road  yonder. 
I  will  join  you." 

Captain  Kotchukoff  saluted,  wheeled  his  horse  and 
galloped  at  full  speed  down  the  road  into  the  meadow, 
while  Colonel  Galenski  trotted  slowly  down  the  hill  un- 
til he  found  a  ford  in  the  stream,  and  then  slowly  rode 
up  the  hill  beyond. 

"It  is  very  strange,"  he  muttered. 

As  he  reached  the  road  above,  the  company  of  Cap- 
tain Kotchukoff  came  riding  up,  but  he  gave  the  com- 
mand to  walk  their  horses,  and  slowly,  Colonel  and 
Captain  riding  in  front,  they  approached  the  end  of  the 
long  causeway  which  led  to  the  castle.  That  he  had  not 
been  mistaken  in  his  observations  was  clearly  to  be  seen, 
for  several  men  lay  either  dead  or  severely  wounded  in 

398 


BESIEGED 


the  middle  of  the  walled  road.  As  they  neared  the  draw- 
bridge three  more  prostrate  figures  were  seen,  one  of 
them  hanging  almost  on  the  lip  of  the  abyss. 

The  drawbridge  was  raised  and  beyond  the  gate  an- 
other form  lay  beyond  the  threshold.  But  as  yet  he 
saw  no  sign  of  life.  Colonel  Galenski  reined  in  his  horse 
sharply,  raised  his  hand,  and  behind  him  his  captain 
shouted  the  loud  order  to  halt. 

At  the  sound  a  man  suddenly  appeared  in  the  gate, 
and  beside  him  a  very  beautiful  young  woman.  Colonel 
Galenski  was  a  good  officer,  but  the  fact,  though,  of 
no  military  importance,  was  quite  clearly  to  be  noted 
— a  very  beautiful  woman.  The  man  beside  the  girl  was 
tall,  and  bore  himself  well.  But  he  was  covered  with 
grime  and  dust  and  his  clothing  was  torn  and  streaked 
with  blood.  One  sleeve  of  his  shirt  was  missing,  and 
his  bare  arm  was  bandaged  just  below  the  arm-pit  with 
a  bloodstained  cloth.  And  as  he  looked,  the  man  smiled 
and  saluted. 

Colonel  Galenski  returned  the  salute,  and  spoke  in 
German. 

"You  will  lower  the  drawbridge  if  you  please.  I  wish 
to  enter." 

The  man  disappeared  for  a  moment,  the  girl  beside 
him,  and  presently,  with  a  loud  clatter  of  rusty  chains 
which  made  necessary  some  excellent  feats  of  horse- 
manship by  the  men  of  the  company  behind  him,  the 
drawbridge  crashed  down,  and  Colonel  Galenski  rode 
forward  through  the  gate,  followed  by  the  company 
of  horsemen,  who  wheeled  by  fours  into  line  and  halted 
in  the  courtyard. 

Colonel  Galenski  dismounted,  neglecting  no  detail  of 
the  signs  of  combat,  the  bullet-scarred  flagging,  the 

399 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

broken  rock,  the  timbers,  the  two  figures  lying  in  the 
shadow  of  the  wall  of  the  gate. 

"From  below,  with  my  glasses,  I  saw  the  Austrians 
attacking  your  drawbridge,"  he  said.  "There  were 
many  of  them  along  the  road.  Your  men  have  well 
defended  the  position.  Where  are  they?" 

The  tall  man  smiled  and  took  the  beautiful  young 
woman  by  the  hand. 

"I  beg  to  present  you  to  my  garrison,"  he  said  with 
a  laugh.  "Countess  Marishka  Strahni — and — er ?" 

"Colonel  Galenski  of  the  Fifth  Regiment— horse," 
said  the  Colonel  with  a  bow.  "And  you,  sir — who  are 
you?" 

The  tall  man  extended  a  grimy  hand  to  the  immacu- 
late Russian. 

"I  will  tell  you  that,  sir,  if" — and  he  laughed— x"if 
you'll  give  me  a  cigarette." 


IN  REGARD  TO  THE  EVIDENCE  IN  THE  CASE 

IF  the  reader  of  this  book  is  not  inclined  to  accept 
the  prima-facie  evidence  as  presented  in  the  news- 
papers from  official  sources  with  regard  to  the  as- 
sassination of  the  Archduke  Ferdinand  and  his  wife,  the 
Duchess  of  Hohenberg,  he  is  referred  by  the  publishers 
to  the  very  interesting  article  by  Mr.  Henry  Wickham 
Steed  called  "The  Pact  of  Konopisht,"  printed  in  the 
Nineteenth  Century  for  February,  1916.  Mr.  Steed, 
as  is  well  known,  was  for  twenty  years  the  correspondent 
in  Vienna  of  the  London  Times,  and  is  also  the  author 
of  the  latest  and  presumably  the  most  authoritative 
work  in  English  on  the  Austro-Hungarian  government 
and  the  House  of  Habsburg. 

The  facts  presented  in  that  article  beginning  with 
the  open  breach  between  Franz  Joseph  and  the  Arch- 
duke on  his  marriage  to  Sophie  Chotek;  the  entente 
between  Kaiser  and  Archduke  at  Eckartzau  and  Pots- 
dam ;  the  seizure  of  the  Archduke's  papers  by  the  Aus- 
trian government  after  the  assassination ;  the  instruc- 
tions to  the  Sarajevo  police  from  the  military  authori- 
ties of  Austria-Hungary  to  make  no  special  arrange- 
ments for  the  Archduke's  protection;  the  fact  that  no 
evidence  has  ever  been  adduced  proving  the  complicity 
of  the  Serbian  government;  the  funeral  of  the  Arch- 
duke and  Duchess,  at  which  no  wreaths  were  sent  by 
Emperor  Franz  Joseph,  by  the  Archduke's  sister,  or 
any  member  of  the  Austro-Hungarian  Imperial  Family ; 

401 


THE  SECRET  WITNESS 

the  inadequacy  of  the  formal  arrangements  for  burial 
and  the  obvious  intention  of  the  Court  authorities  to 
pay  as  little  honor  as  possible  to  the  dead;  the  ex- 
clamation of  the  Kaiser,  during  Kiel  week  when  the 
news  of  the  assassination  was  brought  to  him,  "Now 
I  must  begin  all  over  again": — these  facts  must  be 
considered  as  circumstantial  evidence  of  the  most  posi- 
tive sort  that  the  relations  'between  Archduke  and 
Kaiser  had  been  looked  on  with  disfavor  and  suspicion 
by  the  Imperial  Family  of  Austria.  What  actually 
happened  at  Konopisht  of  course  will  never  be  known, 
but  there  is  strong  presumptive  evidence  that  a  pact  of 
the  character  suggested  in  this  story  was  made  in  the 
rose  garden  of  the  castle  and  that  Von  Tirpitz  was  a 
witness  to  it. 

Whatever  the  police  records  show  with  regard  to 
Cabrinovitz  and  Prinzep,  the  former,  who  threw  the 
bomb,  the  latter  who  did  the  killing,  no  successful  effort 
has  been  made  to  show  that  they  were  employed  by  the 
Serbian  government,  nor  is  it  probable  that  Serbia 
would  have  promoted  a  plot  which  would  give  Austria 
Hungary  a  pretext,  for  assailing  her,  a  pretext  that 
Austria  Hungary  had  already  sought.  The  story  of 
the  beginnings  of  the  Great  War  has  shown  how  she 
found  it. 

In  the  light  of  the  ascertained  facts  concerning  the  pro- 
duction of  anti-Serbian  forgeries  employed  by  Austria  dur- 
ing the  annexation  crises  of  1908-9,  and  exposed  during  the 
Friedjung  trial  of  December,  1909,  it  certainly  would  not 
be  beyond  the  power  of  Austro-Hungarian  Secret  Serv- 
ice agents  to  cook  up  'a  plot  at  Belgrade  or  Sarajevo,  were 
it  considered  desirable,  for  reasons  of  Imperial  policy, 
either  to  "remove"  obnoxious  personages  or  to  provide  a 
pretext  for  war. 

402 


EVIDENCE  IN  THE  CASE 

The  dream  of  an  empire  from  Hamburg  to  Saloniki 
is  as  yet  a  dream,  but  that  it  was  dreamed  in  Potsdam 
no  one  doubts. 

(7) 


ZANE  GREY'S  NOVELS 

May  ba  had  wherever  books  are  sold.        Ask  for  Grosset  t  Dunlap's  list 
THE  LIGHT  OF  WESTERN  STARS 

A  New  York  society  girl  buys  a  ranch  which  becomes  the  center  of  frontier  war- 
fare. Her  loyal  superintendent  rescues  her  when  she  is  captured  by  bandits.  A 
surprising  climax  brings  the  story  to  a  delightful  close. 

THE  RAINBOW  TRAIL 

The  story  of  a  young  clergyman  who  becomes  a  wanderer  in  the  great  western) 
uplands— until  at  last  love  and  faith  awake. 

DESERT  GOLD 

The  story  describes  the  recent  uprising  along  the  border,  and  ends  with  the  finding 
of  the  gold  which  two  prospectors  had  willed  to  the  girl  who  is  the  story's  heroine. 

RIDERS  OF  THE  PURPLE  SAGE 

A  picturesque  romance  of  Utah  of  some  forty  years  ago  when  Mormom  authority 
ruled.  The  prosecution  of  Jane  Withersteen  is  the  theme.of  the  story. 

THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLAINSMEN 

This  is  the  record  of  a  trip  which  the  author  took  with  Buffalo  Jones,  known  as  the 
preserver  of  the  American  bison,  across  the  Arizona  desert  and  of  a  hunt  us  that 
wonderful  country  of  deep  canons  and  giant  pines." 

THE  HERITAGE  OF  THE  DESERT 

A  lovely  girl,  who  has  been  reared  among  Mormons,  learns  to  love  a  young  Ne* 
Englander.  The  Mormon  religion,  however,  demands  that  the  girl  shall  become 
the  second  wife  of  one  of  the  Mormons— Well,  that's  the  problem  of  this  great  story. 

THE  SHORT  STOP 

The  young  hero,  tiring  of  his  factory  grind,  starts  out  to  win  fame  and  'orrune  as 
a  professional  ball  player.  His  Iwd  knocks  at  the  start  are  followed  by  such  success 
as  clean  sportsmanship,  courage  and  honesty  ought  to  win. 

BETTY^ZANE 

This  story  tells  of  the  bravery  and  heroism  of  Betty,  the  beautiful  young  sister  of 
old  Colonel  Zane,  one  of  the  bravest  pioneers. 

THE  LONE  STAR  RANGER 

After  killing  a  man  in  self  defense.  Buck  Duane  becomes  an  outlaw  along  tke 
Texas  border.  In  a  camp  on  the  Mexican  side  of  the  river,  he  nnds  a  young  girl  held 
prisoner,  and  hi  attempting  to  rescue  her,  brings  down  upon  himself  the  wrath  of  her 
captors  and  henceforth  is  hunted  on  one  side  by  honest  men,  on  the  other  by  outlaws. 

THE  BORDER  LEGION 

Joan  Handle,  in  a  spirit  of  anger,  sent  Jim  Cleve  out  to  a  lawless  Western  minine 
camp,  to  prove  his  mettle.  Then  realizing  that  she  loved  him— she  followed  him  out. 
On  tier  way,  she  is  captured  by  a  bandit  band,  and  trouble  begins  when  she  shoot  9 
Kells,  the  leader— and  nurses  him  to  health  again.  Here  enters  another  romance-  : 
when  Joan,  disguised  as  an  outlaw,  observes  Jim,  in  the  throes  of  dissipation.  A  goU» 
nrike,  a  thrilling  robbery— gambling  and  gun  play  carry  you  along  breathlessly.^ 

THE   LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

By  Helen  Cody  Wetmore  and  Zane  Grey 

rhe  life  story  of  Colonel  William  F.  Cody,  "  Buffalo  Bill,"  as  told  by  his  sis 

Zane  Grey.  It  begins  with  his  boyhood  in  Iowa  and  his  first  encounter  with  an  In- 
dian. We  see  "Bill"  as  a  pony  express  rider,  then  near  Fort  Sumter  as  Chief  of 
the  Scouts,  and  later  engaged  in  the  most  dangerous  Indian  campaigns.  There  is 
also  a  very  interesting  account  of  the  travels  of  The  Wild  West"  &'ow.  No  char- 
acter In  public  life  makes  a  stronger  appeal  to  the  imagination  01  America  than 
"  Buffalo  Bill,"  whose  daring  and  bravery  made  him  famous. _^^ 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,        PUBLISHERS,        NEW  YORK 


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BOOTH     TARKINGTON'S 
NOVELS 

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SEVENTEEN.    Illustrated  by  Arthur  William  Brown. 

No  one  but  the  creator  of  Penrod  could  have  portrayed 
the  immortal  young  people  of  this  story.  Its  humor  is  irre- 
sistible and  reminiscent  of  the  time  when  the  reader  was 
Seventeen. 

PENROD.    Illustrated  by  Gordon  Grant. 

This  is  a  picture  of  a  boy's  heart,  full  of  the  lovable,  hu- 
morous, tragic  things  which  are  locked  secrets  to  most  older 
folks.  It  is  a  finished,  exquisite  work. 

PENROD  AND  SAM.  Illustrated  by  Worth  Brehm. 

Like  "  Penrod "  and  "  Seventeen,"  this  book  contains 
gome  remarkable  phases  of  real  boyhood  and  some  of  the  best 
stories  of  juvenile  prankishness  that  have  ever  been  written. 

THE  TURMOIL.    Illustrated  by  C.  E.  Chambers. 

Bibbs  Sheridan  is  a  dreamy,  imaginative  youth,  who  re- 
volts against  his  father's  plans  for  him  to  be  a  servitor  of 
big  business.  The  love  of  a  fine  girl  turns  Bibb's  life  from 
failure  to  success. 

THE  GENTLEMAN  FROM  INDIANA.    Frontispiece. 

A  story  of  love  and  politics, — more  especially  a  picture  of 
a  country  editor's  life  in  Indiana,  but  the  charm  of  the  book 
lies  in  the  love  interest. 

THE  FLIRT.    Illustrated  by  Clarence  F.  Underwood. 

The  "  Flirt,"  the  younger  of  two  sisters,  breaks  one  girl 'a 
engagement,  drives  one  man  to  suicide,  causes  the  murder 
of  another,  leads  another  to  lose  his  fortune,  and  in  the  end 
marries  a  stupid  and  unpromising  suitor,  leaving  the  really 
worthy  one  to  marry  her  sister. 

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JACK    LONDON'S    NOVELS 

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JOHN  BARLEYCORN.    Illustrated  by  H.  T.  Dunn. 

This  remarkable  book  is  a  record  of  the  author's  own  amazing 
experiences.  This  big,  brawny  world  rover,  who  has  been  ac- 
quainted with  alcohol  from  boyhood,  conies  out  boldly  against  John 
Barleycorn.  It  is  a  string  of  exciting  adventures,  yet  it  forcefully 
conveys  an  unforgetable  idea  and  makes  a  typical  Jack  London  book. 

THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  MOON.    Frontispiece  by  George  Harper. 

The  story  opens  in  the  city  slums  where  Billy  Roberts,  teamster 
and  ex-prize  fighter,  and  Saxon  Brown,  laundry  worker,  meet  and 
love  and  marry.  They  tramp  from  one  end  of  California  to  the 
other,  and  in  the  Valley  of  the  Moon  find  the  farm  paradise  that  is 
to  be  their  salvation. 
BURNING  DAYLIGHT.  Four  illustrations. 

The  story  ot  an  adventurer  who  went  to  Alaska  and  laid  the 
foundations  of  his  fortune  before  the  gold  hunters  arrived.  Bringing 
his  fortunes  to  the  States  he  is  cheated  out  of  it  by  a  crowd  of  money 
kings,  and  recovers  it  only  at  the  muzzle  of  his  gun.  He  then  starts 
out  as  a  merciless  exploiter  on  his  own  account.  Finally  he  takes  to 
drinking  and  becomes  a  picture  of  degeneration.  About  this  time 
he  falls  in  love  with  his  stenographer  and  wins  her  heart  but  not 
her  hand  and  then — but  read  the  story  I 
A  SON  OF  THE  SUN.  Illustrated  by  A.  O .  Fischer  and  C .  W.  Ashley. 

David  Grief  was  once  a  light-haired,  blue-eyed  youth  who  came 
from  England  to  the  South  Seas  in  search  of  adventure.  Tanned 
fiike  a  native  and  as  lithe  as  a  tiger,  he  became  a  real  son  of  the  sun. 
The  life  appealed  to  him  and  he  remained  and  became  very  wealthy. 
THE  CALL  OF  THE  WILD.  Illustrations  by  Philip  R.  Goodwin  and 
Charles  Livingston  Bull.  Decorations  by  Charles  E.  Hooper. 

A  book  ot  dog  adventures  as  exciting  as  any  man's  exploits 
could  be.  Here  is  excitement  to  stir  the  blood  and  here  is  pictur- 
esque color  to  transport  the  reader  to  primitive  scenes. 

THE  SEA  WOLF.    Illustrated  by  W.  J.  Aylward. 

Told  by  a  man  whom  Fate  suddenly  swings  from  his  fastidious 
life  into  the  power  of  the  brutal  captain  of  a  sealing  schooner.    A 
novel  of  adventure  warmed  by  a  beautiful  love  episode  that  every 
reader  will  hail  with  delight. 
WHITE  FANG.    Illustrated  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull. 

"White  Fang"  is  part  dog,  part  wolf  and  all  brute,  living  in  the 
frozen  north ;  he  gradually  comes  under  the  spell  of  man's  com- 
panionship, and  surrenders  all  at  the  last  in  a  fight  with  a  bull  dog. 
Thereafter  he  is  man's  loving  slave,  j 

GROSSET   &   DUNLAP,  PUBLISHERS',    NEW   YORK 


JOHN  FOX,  JR'S. 

STORIES   OF  THE  KENTUCKY  MOUNTAINS 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.      Ask  for  Grosset  and  Dunlap's  list      - 

THE  TRAIL   OF  THE    LONESOME  PINE. 
Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 


The  "lonesome  pine"  from  which  the 
story  takes  its  name  was  a  tall  tree  that' 
stood  in  solitary  splendor  on  a  mountain 
top.  The  fame  of  the  pine  lured  a  young 
engineer  through  Kentucky  to  catch  the 
trail,  and  when  he  finally  climbed  to  ifc 
shelter  he  found  not  only  the  pine  but  the 
foot-prints  of  a  girl.  And  the  girl  proved 
to  be  lovely,  piquant,  and  the  trail  of 
these  girlish  foot-prints  led  the  young 
engineer  a  madder  chase  than  "the  trail 
of  the  lonesome  pine." 

SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 


THE    LITTLE 


Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

This  is  a  story  of  Kentucky,  in  a  settlement  known  as  "King- 
dom Come."  It  is  a  life  rude,  semi-barbarous;  but  natural 
and  honest,  from  which  often  springs  the  flower  of  civilization. 

*'  Chad."  the  "little  shepherd"  did  not  know  who  he  was  nor 
whence  he  came — he  had  just  wandered  from  door  to  door  since 
early  childhood,  seeking  shelter  with  kindly  mountaineers  who 
gladly  fathered  and  mothered  this  waif  about  whom  there  was 
such  a  mystery — a  charming  waif,  by  the  way,  who  could  play 
the  banjo  better  that  anyone  else  in  the  mountains. 

A  KNIGHT  OF  THE    CUMBERLAND./ 
Illustrated   by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

The  scenes  are  laid  along  the  waters  of  the  Cumberland* 
the  lair  of  moonshiner  and  f  eudsman.  The  knight  is  a  moon- 
shiner's son,  and  the  heroine  a  beautiful  girl  perversely  chris- 
tened "The  Blight."  Two  impetuous  young  Southerners'  fall 
under  the  spell  of  "The  Blight's  "  charms  and  she  learns  what 
a  large  part  jealousy  and  pistols  have  in  the  love  making  of  the 
mountaineers. 

Included  in  this  volume  is  "  Hell  fer-Sartain"  and  other 
stories,  some  of  Mr.  Fox's  most  entertaining  Cumberland  valley 
narratives. 

Ask  for  complete  fret  list  of  G.  &  D.  Popular  Copyrighted  Fiction 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  526  WEST  26th  ST.,  NEW  YORK 


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